


Rotten Rules

by ellenchain



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Prison, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bad Decisions, Blood and Violence, Bottom Charles Xavier, Bottom Erik Lehnsherr, Charles You Slut, Charles is Insane, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, Facials, First Time, From Sex to Love, Gun Violence, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, Humiliation, Insane Charles, Killing, Kinky, Light Bondage, M/M, Massacre, Mental Health Issues, Mistaken Identity, Original Character(s), Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, Sexual Violence, Urination, but so is Erik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:55:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 105,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22617484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellenchain/pseuds/ellenchain
Summary: On Erik's first day, he can already tell that prison is indeed not a pony farm. Still, he can't help sticking his nose into dark machinations going on in the depths of the prison. He quickly learns that there is only one rule: eat or be eaten. In addition to all the rumors about dangerous inmates and a corrupt director, a charismatic man from block C in particular does not let him get a good night's sleep. But he too seems to have more secrets than he makes Erik believe ...
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Comments: 73
Kudos: 105





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains scenes that are unsuitable for minors and risk groups. The following topics are mentioned:  
> \- Extreme violence  
> \- rape  
> \- mutilation  
> \- gore  
> \- gun violence / use or shooting  
> \- fetishes (e.g. BDSM, pee, etc.)
> 
> If one or more topics fall into the personal trigger area and are still consumed, you do so at your own risk.  
> I will put trigger warnings at the beginning of every chapter. This story is really not for everyone, so please keep that in mind!

There was blood everywhere. On the street, on the van, on the guns, and on the bodies scattered around Erik. It was a massacre. _It shouldn't have gone that way._

A policeman tried to climb out of a crushed patrol car. One of his legs was obviously broken. Blood poured from the laceration on his forehead over his face. But before he could get out of the car, Charles made great strides towards him. He was still limping. It was probably not just the ankle that was sprained.

"No, please," the man coughed and crawled back into the car with all his might. Charles was faster.

Without batting an eyelid, he pulled a knife from a nearby body and stabbed the police officer with full force. The body fell to the ground as if in slow motion. The knife got stuck in his throat.

Erik couldn't take his eyes off the blood-soaked man standing on the damp street like a god of death. He stood there covered in blood - not knowing what to do. _It just shouldn't have gone that way._

"Come on," he heard Charles’ soft voice that didn't really fit the situation. They were the only survivors now. Only corpses and destroyed car parts around them. In the distance you could hear soft rumbling. A thunderstorm started.

"Come on," repeated Charles, limping toward Erik. "We have to go before reinforcements come."

But Erik continued to stare at the blood, which was slowly spreading over the wet asphalt around his feet. "Why didn't it go according to plan ...?" he whispered in the cold wind.

"Because life is not going according to plan!" Charles suddenly grumbled and reached for Erik's red sleeve. "Come on now, damn it!"

Erik's eyes flicked up for the first time and stared at Charles’ big blue ones. There was mud and blood on his otherwise pale skin. His beard started to grow. For the first time, he noticed that Charles also had red hair. Like Erik.

The sun was slowly setting and he knew they had to leave the massacre behind before they had to go back to prison. It was their chance for freedom. Their chance for a life together. Erik wasn't sure until the last second if that was what he wanted. The way into the unknown. Always on the heels with the police.

But when Charles’ gaze suddenly softened and the blue eyes shimmered in the dull sunlight, as if they were about to lose the first tears, Erik became more secure with every second.

It would be the right decision.

"Erik," his lover whispered in a shaky voice. "Please come."

The tall man nodded and took his friend by the hand. Together they left the scene when the first sirens could be heard.

_It shouldn't have ended that way._


	2. Tucker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings for this chapter:  
> \- mention of drugs  
> \- bullying  
> \- threatening

There were basically two ways to go to jail: it was you. Or you were just unlucky.

Most inmates would advocate the second option, probably 95% of the time. When Erik Lehnsherr saw the concrete walls decorated with steel for the first time, a cold shiver ran down his spine. He had seen a lot in his life, but knowing for the first time that you can't escape a place was off-putting.

The two tall, very intimidating men next to him accompanied Erik to his body search. Then they took everything that belonged to him. And in return handed him a grey fashion symbol, which everyone wore here. When he took off his wedding ring and threw it into a plastic bag, he had to stare at it for a few seconds. It felt strange to see it. It was even stranger, however, when the plastic bag disappeared into a locker, as if it would never come out again.

The official who asked him to undress in the cold room was very kind to Erik's surprise. He smiled here and there even when Erik made a dry remark about the utensils on the sterile table. The relaxed atmosphere, however, suddenly tensed as the officer examined his anus. And took an enormous amount of time to do so.

Dressed in grey pants and a grey shirt, he was given some other things that he could use for personal use. When he was standing at the counter with the thick plexiglass pane, he got in contact with other inmates for the first time. They just came from a shift, so Erik assumed, because they wore dirty overalls. They laughed and generally seemed to be having a lot of fun. But just when Erik looked at them, they whistled after him and indicated very clearly that he should blow them. With loud laughter, they disappeared behind a large metal door.

Erik could only smile wearily. He was looking forward to the first experience in the shower.

He could still half-heartedly joke about it, but the laughter passed quickly as another officer escorted him to his cell. The road was taking longer than expected, so there was an uncomfortable silence as they walked through the grey corridors.

The man used the time to instruct Erik again. But that was done much more half-heartedly than before, when he was told the bare essentials upon arrival.

»No sharp objects such as razors or knives. Cutlery is made of plastic, you can only shave with electric razors. There are haircuts at the hairdresser,” mumbled the slightly older man as he walked a little behind Erik. He carried his spare clothes and other items around like a tray. He drove the corridors with his eyes as best he could. There were several cell blocks and medical rooms. Most of the doors were locked. You only got ahead with transponders. Should a transponder get lost, you could quickly deactivate it. So there was no point in stealing such a thing. Erik had to look for another way to open the doors.

"There's fights, there's trouble," the gentleman said, trying to ignore the other inmates' malicious comments. »Insults or even violent acts against employees are punished with sanctions. Either social work or more years, depending on the severity. «

Erik smiled but said nothing.

“You got a lifetime anyway, right? Well, stay good nonetheless. Maybe they'll let you out at some point because of good behaviour.”

Erik said nothing again, but looked around further. They reached a relatively new building complex. The walls were still painted in a consistent grey and not like the others with some patchwork.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they reached Erik's cell. A thick door with a small window in the upper third. Protected by bars. Again, only a transponder opened the door.

»There are times when everyone can move freely. At all other times the inmates stay in their cells. Outbreak is sanctioned with fines here too ... you know. «

Erik nodded well, still holding his clothes in front of him, and stopped in the hallway next to the officer while he opened the door. There was a big tattooed man in the cell. Very bulky with wild hair. When he saw Erik, he grinned mischievously, showing his many gold teeth.

It had been a miracle that no one had knocked them out yet.

"Oh la la! What have we got there?” greeted the burly man Erik and leaned against the open door. The officer seemed to be very calm, even when the cellmate stuck his head out of the room. "Are you giving me something new to nibble, Jerry?"

"No," _Jerry_ snorted, waving the transponder into the cell. “This is Tucker Dawson, sitting for drug trafficking. Keep your hands off him. Gay stuff is also sanctioned.”

Then Tucker winked at Erik maliciously. “You can do anything. Just don't let yourself get caught.”

"Thank you," Erik began to speak in a calm voice, even if he wasn't calm. "But I'm not gay."

Tucker laughed and bit his lip. "Challenge accepted!"

The officer finally returned Erik to the cell and closed the door. It took a moment for Tucker to move from his side and make room for him.

The cell was small, but not too small. A classic bunk bed, of course, but it looked okay. Tucker had apparently occupied the lower bed. Erik would take the top half. He put his things on the already made bed. When he discovered a small television and a structurally separate toilet with a sink that could have been in a simple apartment, he turned to Tucker in disbelief.

"A really nice room for a prison," he said in surprise, blinking in the direction of his cellmate.

That only earned him a loud laugh. “Oh, don't get used to it too early, bub. It is not as beautiful as it seems. Although," and then he dropped onto one of the two chairs that stood at a small table, "It's kind of nice here. It's worse in the other blocks.”

That made Erik prick up his ears. "What’s the situation there?"

Tucker scratched his broad upper arm as if that would help him think. “Well, rumours say at least one guy dies every week and shit like that. The really bad candidates are sitting there. Murderer and such. Serial killers. All that stuff.”

Erik raised his eyebrows. "And here? Who is sitting here? Just drug dealers?”

"Hey, hey," Tucker snorted, kicking the table aggressively. "Don't make it sound like we're the little criminals here!"

Erik said nothing but kept staring at his neighbour. He was interested in the answer to his question.

Tucker crossed his arms. Anyway, he tried. With his muscles it looked difficult to bend his arms at all. “Mainly drug dealers. Violent criminals. A couple of sex offenders. Something like that.”

Erik nodded. "Then I should be happy to be here."

"How so? What brought you in here?” Tucker suddenly asked very happily and leaned forward to Erik, who was still standing a little uncomfortable in the middle of the room.

"My ex-wife."

"Oh!" Tucker whistled, raising his eyebrows as if he knew immediately what was going on. »Those women, really bad! Thankfully, mine didn't rat on me, I was just unlucky with the cops. «

"Yes, the women," repeated Erik monotonously, reaching for his toothbrush. He slowly unpacked it to put it on the sink. »Tucker is a very interesting name. I've never heard of it before.”

As he stood in the small bathroom, Erik could almost hear Tucker grinning. »Do you know the car? From the Tucker Corporation? My dad was a big fan! Named me after it. My ma didn't have much say in that.”

"Interesting." It wasn't. But Erik didn't want to talk about their offenses. And while Tucker seemed tall and dangerous looking, he wasn't actually. He even showed Erik the pictures of his two children just before dinner. An uninteresting case, Erik thought. And so he focused on the other inmates.

The canteen was yet another world. It was huge. There was seating everywhere, at one end a large buffet, where you could more or less decide what you wanted to eat. The classic throw on the tray still existed. It was probably better to clean. And you couldn't kill someone with a plastic tray. Anyway, Erik still believed that.

When his eyes went down the upper floors, he spotted more than 20 snipers.

"Has there been a shootout before?" Erik asked in a low voice to his colleague, who didn't move from his side. Tucker, who was almost a good head taller than Erik, leaned down a little.

“More often than you think. But mostly only when block C has meal time. We are safe so far. There may be a scrap here and there, but nothing more.”

Erik's interest was piqued again. "So do I have to be careful of certain people?"

"Haha," laughed Tucker, and put an arm around Erik. The gesture was a little uncomfortable, especially because Tucker smelled of sweat, but Erik said nothing. “You should be careful of everyone here, Bub. If they don't want your little sweet ass, they want your charming throat. So stay with me. I am nice."

Erik was sure it was probably a good idea to stay close to Tucker. He noticed a group of men watching them closely when they were at the food distribution. They looked like trouble from afar.

When they were sitting at a community table and Tucker cheerfully told him about his drugs, which he had all thrown in back in the old days, the group came closer. Erik had been waiting for the confrontation to happen and searched for the staff on their floor who could have helped him if necessary.

"Hey, a newbie," Erik was barked at by a Latin American guy. Also tattooed up to his neck like all the other guys, he immediately sat next to him and put an arm around his shoulders. “Even a redhead. I'm into redheads.” His friends laughed maliciously. There was a total of five men. One uglier than the other. But apparently everyone from the tribe 'we're sexy and we know that'.

"Can I help you?" Erik asked politely, trying to smile. Suddenly Tucker fell silent and watched the scene like a deer looking into a car’s headlights on the street.

The Latino licked his lips and looked at Erik's freshly shaved cheeks. "Maybe," he hummed, stroking the back of his index finger over Erik's face. 'Say, why are you here? I'm curious."

"I don't think that's important," Erik said decisively, eluding the uncomfortable touch.

"Oh boy," laughed the charmer, looking around his group of followers. “This one has a bite. I like that."

Before Erik could laugh, he was grabbed by the collar. Hot cigarette breath rose in his nose as the groomed Latino whispered in his ear. “Me and my gang are in charge here in block A. Be good. Follow the rules. And you can serve your time without losing a finger or a toe. How does that sound, huh?”

Erik tried to turn his head to the man without giving him a smack. Almost nose to nose, he managed to look Latino boy in the eye. In the background he saw some guards with their hands on their clubs. Ready to intervene if the situation turns into a fight.

"Thank you very much," said Erik, smiling almost sincerely into the man's oddly shaped face. "But I'm not gay."

Then, of course, the first fist flew. It hit Erik in the lower stomach area, causing him to bend forward. Tucker certainly meant well when he jumped up and tried to grab the Latino boy. But then the guards stepped in and grabbed one after the other. Sitting and standing inmates suddenly began to whistle and scream as if a cockfight had started. Before a serious fight could actually take place, the group of men was removed. Unfortunately, Erik and Tucker too. Without having eaten anything, they had to go back to their cell.

"Sorry you couldn't eat either," Erik murmured and watched Tucker light a cigarette by the grille window.

"It's okay," he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Antonio can be annoying. He thinks he is somehow a big number with his laughable 1.70m. It's just ridiculous. «

"You suddenly became very quiet earlier for that he shouldn't be a big number." Erik sat down at the small table and watched Tucker's facial expressions. Indeed, his face twisted a little.

"He is known for getting carried away. So stay away from him, especially if you are on your own. Don't go showering alone and all that.”

That made Erik smile. "Is that now friendly care or a not so unselfish offer?"

Luckily, Tucker took the comment as a joke and grinned while blowing the cigarette smoke out of the window. It still smelled all over the room. "Both. But seriously: the guy doesn't do things by halves. If he wants to put his thing in you, he'll do it. «

"Already experienced?"

Tucker shook his head. Relief spread across his face. “No, I'm not his type. But my previous roommate. They caught him.”

"What happened to him?"

"He's in block B now. He volunteered to go there."

“Who is sitting there? The murderers?"

“Yes, in part. But even so people who don't learn their lesson. You know? They came out and basically killed or sexually abused someone in the first minute they breathed fresh air. Hard to understand. «

"Why would someone go there on their own will?" Erik asked, raising his eyebrows.

But Tucker just shrugged his shoulders and flicked his cigarette butt out of the window, even though there was an ashtray on the windowsill. "No idea. You shouldn’t care about logic here.”

Tucker was probably right. The evidence of lacking logic was already coming at night: Erik heard loud groans through the corridors. For the fact that homosexual behaviour was not tolerated ... very little was done to prevent it. In any case, his roommate was sound asleep, so that Erik didn't have to worry about sexual advances, at least for the first night.


	3. Mr. Candy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings for this chapter:  
> \- disemberment mentioned  
> \- sexual harrassment  
> \- bullying  
> \- threats

The next morning started quite turbulently. The canteen was very full - fuller than the night before. Several guards now stood with machine guns on the lower floor. The inmates were surrounded by weapons.

"What happened?" Erik asked, furtively looking around as he pushed his tray in front of him.

His neighbour, as always, did not leave his side. In the beginning, Erik was annoyed that he wasn't even allowed to pee alone, but in such uncomfortable situations he was happy to have someone by his side who could crush someone easily if he just fell over.

"Block C is here today," he whispered tensely, also looking around nervously. Everyone from block A seemed to be doing this. Only the new faces didn’t. At least that’s what Erik assumed. All faces were new to him after all.

"I thought we always had separate meal times?"

Tucker had some grey stodge, which looked like slush, put on the tray. "Probably hell was going on over there last night."

"Indeed," interrupted a smirking man. He had a brown full beard with a few grey streaks in it. No hair. Maybe in his mid or late forties. Like most of the people here. “Candy had someone killed again. The whole hall was full of blood.”

Tucker's face immediately turned pale. "Oh, shit."

The bearded man just shrugged. “It was time. The little Russian had annoyed him long enough.”

Erik just listened quietly and tried to decipher what exactly had happened. The man from block C, who knew about the situation so well, was still grinning happily, even though he was talking about really terrible things.

“I guess he cut his throat and let him bleed to death after they screwed. And because it wasn't enough for him, he pulled him screaming through the aisle while he was bleeding. „

Then Tucker fell silent. He and Erik stared at their food, which they just wanted to bring to a table.

“Some people say that he did some sick shit with him then. Wanking on the corpse or something.”

Tucker went to sit down without saying a word. Erik stopped by the bearded man for a moment, who was happily taking plastic cutlery.

“Where were the guards? Why didn't anyone intervene?” Erik asked tensely, staring at the man. The guy turned around and said nothing at first, just grinned.

"New here?"

Erik nodded slowly.

The bearded man nodded like an understanding father and took a step towards Erik to whisper something to him quietly. “Here in block A, they seem to care a little bit more about you. Like, you still have a future. When you're in block C, boy, forget it. They let you die. Doesn't matter to them. Before they get caught in the crossfire?”

Erik wondered why everybody called him _boy_ in this facility when he was actually about the same age of most of the inmates. It probably had something to do with the newcomer status. In any case, the bearded man seemed to have a perfidious delight in frightening Erik.

"You don't mess with Candy," he whispered finally. “You eat. Or will be eaten. „

The man left eventually.

Erik scurried to Tucker, who was sitting on the edge of a distant table. He had his head between his shoulders and was literally shovelling the food into himself.

When Erik sat down, Tucker winced. "Are you crazy? Did you really talk to this guy?”

"Yes," he said calmly as he picked up the plastic cutlery. "I wanted to know why the guards didn't intervene."

"Well, because nobody intervenes when Candy is walking around," Tucker explained the story with the same words.

"Who's Candy?" Sounded like a woman's name.

His cellmate bit his lip and stopped shovelling for a moment. “Shawn Candy. Serial killer. Killed several girls in a really cruel way, they say.”

Men sitting next to them stole a glance over there. They caught snatches of the conversation and apparently felt uncomfortable. One of them even moved something away from Erik. As if they were summoning the devil.

“Shawn Candy? Never heard of him.” And Erik knew the criminal scene. He had to deal with it every day anyway.

"Yes, you did now," snorted Tucker, reaching for Erik's wrist over the table. His grip was a little too tight. Erik winced. “Stay away from Candy. Stay away from everyone who has anything to do with him. Antonio? He’s kindergarten compared to him. If you love your life, don't talk to the block C guys. Don't talk to anyone about Candy. Not even with the guards. You don't know who is corrupt enough to be in cahoots with him.”

Erik stayed silent and just blinked in Tucker's little eyes, which were exceptionally big enough so that you could actually see a brown iris. Tucker only let go slowly. His hand slid over the dirty table.

So Candy was a man that Erik should take a closer look at.

The men around them got up and fled. Antonio and his gang, however, came closer. Erik sighed inwardly when one of the guys hit his tray on the table.

"Good morning ladies," said Antonio to Erik and Tucker. “Have you heard? Candy ran amok again. „

For that a lot of people said nobody should talk about this Shawn Candy, pretty much everyone did anyway. Like a K-pop idol.

“It's just blatant that they let him do what he likes. I mean, the guy has been killing people here regularly for months, and yet guys keep getting involved with him. „

"Wasn't it his new whore he was killing off?" Asked one of Antonio's lackeys, shoving the greasy omelette into his mouth.

"Yeah, that's what I mean!" Antonio waved his hands in the air. "You know the guy is a killer and still you let him nail you? How hollow do you have to be? „

"Maybe you don't always have a choice," Erik said for the first time since the group of Antonio had arrived. He knew he shouldn't have said anything and put his head between his shoulders like Tucker. But that was probably what set Erik apart: he just had to get involved.

His roommate looked up, startled. Antonio and his colleagues also froze for a moment. Until one of them finally giggled.

“You think Candy made him become his whore? Well, someone seems to be well informed. „

"From what I’ve heard so far of him, it’s not that much of a stretch, do you think?" Erik said in a calm tone, even though his heart was pounding in his chest.

Antonio slid a little closer to him and leaned forward so that his nose almost touched Erik's cheek. "Be careful, otherwise Candy will make you his whore next."

It was surely meant as a threat. But it went nowhere. "How does that work? He's in block C. We're in block A. I guess I'll never see him.”

Antonio grinned broadly and showed again his ugly teeth. “If Candy wants you to come to him, you'll come to him. That might happen faster than you'd like. „

Erik stared into Antonio's brown eyes and tried to decipher what his intention was. Intimidate him? To scare him? Or did he just want to provoke a reaction?

"So you really have no choice then," Erik concluded, eating the last spoon of his grey mush, which tasted just as grey.

Antonio moved away from Erik again and looked at him stunned. “You should have a little more respect for him. Otherwise you're dead faster than you'd like. „

"I'll give him the respect he deserves when I see him.” With that Erik got up and indicated to Tucker that they would leave.

When they left, Erik heard Spanish curses and excited laughter from the group. Tucker only found his language again when they were back in their room and the door was closed.

"Wow," was all he got out. Erik sat down at the small table and heard the guards lock the rooms. Usually it was day pass. Apparently not.

„I can’t believe you can stay so calm! Aren't you scared? What if Candy heard the conversation? What if he really gets you?”

As Tucker panicked, Erik opened a magazine about racing cars. "Yes, that would be rather ugly." Actually, it was almost exactly what he wanted to do - get to know the weird bird.

"You're ..." his roommate started, but hesitated because he probably couldn't think of anything. Finally, with his index finger, he indicated that Erik should be careful, but said nothing more.

The gates were opened again at noon. In the afternoon, free access was allowed again. Erik really wanted to take a shower. His hygiene shouldn't suffer just because he was in prison. Even if it would have made the other smells around him easier to bear.

"Don't go showering alone," Tucker said, grabbing his towel. "It's too dangerous."

"So you're accompanying me?" Erik was already ready to go by the door.

"It’s better this way."

Of course, Tucker's intentions hadn't been as selfless as they seemed at the beginning. He stared at Erik's penis all the time. It wasn't until Erik caught him staring that Tucker cleared his throat and gestured reluctantly at what Erik had between his legs.

“Pretty big. I have to admit,” he said as they stood in the shower. The warm water was pleasant on the skin. The guard with a machine gun at the entrance, however, spread a rather oppressive atmosphere. The other men just did what you did in a shower: washing yourself. It was far less wicked than the films always tried to make you believe.

"Thanks," was all Erik said.

After a really unspectacular shower, the two men sat back in the room. Tucker talked about his part-time job he did in prison: putting pieces of drugstore dye together. He packed everything you needed for a beautiful blonde, brown or black in a cardboard box, where a beautiful woman showed her great photobusinessped hair.

At dinner, Erik overheard another conversation about Candy. That he was probably in solitary confinement again. It wasn't clear to Erik why one would let him out after all.

Tucker bent his ears like a blabbermouth, but Erik just let him talk. He ate his chewy bread in silence and drank the water that tasted of lead.

But of course, the day had to end the way it had started: in pure chaos. Antonio and his boys were going to have a good time throwing ketchup bags at Erik. Just as he was about to hand over the tray, the first ketchup bag flew into his neck. Followed by the second and third on his head. Of course, they were all open, so that the red, sticky mass spread all over him.

"Oh no," Antonio shouted amused, and threw a bag extra hard on his ass. “So much blood! Hopefully he will survive! „

Antonio’s colleagues laughed and skilfully acted their own death. Erik tried to stay calm and simply put the tray aside. Tucker stood next to him and looked at him in shock, then in panic. Several other men around them stared at them and watched the spectacle. Of course, no guards intervened. It was just ketchup and a silly prank.

"Who wounded you so much, princess?" laughed a guy from Antonio's gang. "Was it Candy and his huge cock?"

"Uh, was it too big for you, princess?"

"You're his whore now!"

The whole gang laughed. Nobody else. Tucker pulled a couple of napkins off the stand and tried to wipe the ketchup off Erik’s clothes. Ultimately, his clumsy hands only made things worse and he worked the red bump into the grey suit and his hair. Erik nodded politely and carefully pushed Tucker's hands aside. "Thank you, I think we'd rather do that in the room."

Antonio's group continued to laugh, even though Erik and Tucker were already out of the canteen. Their laughter was loud enough that you could still hear it in the hallway.

"That was really so unnecessary," sighed Tucker, trying to create a calm atmosphere. Erik was calm. He walked down the aisle silently. In fact, some oncoming inmates stared at the two with panicked looks. In the small bathroom mirror of their toilet, Erik saw that the ketchup had done a really good job. It looked like smeared blood. He had to take a shower again. The ketchup was in his entire hair.

"You're redder now than you were before," Tucker said. But when Erik's neutral gaze hit him, he fell silent. “So, I mean… you were rather brown-red before. Now you're red-red. „

"I got it, Tucker," Erik sighed and grabbed his still clammy towel. "I'm going to take a shower again."

"Are you crazy? At this time? Better go tomorrow. I'll go with you again.”

"It's okay." It wasn't that bad. In addition, there was always a guard in front of the shower room. If necessary, he or she could intervene.

However, before he went to the shower rooms, Erik got a new uniform from the laundry. The lady was very nice and smiled when Erik told her which kindergarten campaign had given him the ketchup on the back of his neck. In the corner of his eye Erik saw a car full of dirty clothes. Many of them with real blood. Erik could quickly make out the difference. He had seen enough blood in his life to know that the mountains of clothing in the car had not been stained by ketchup.

But before he could start to worry, the lady handed him his spare clothes. He left thankfully.

The aisle had become much emptier. Only a few men were running around, chatting in the corridor or obviously fondling in dark corners. Some of the guards were also chatting at open doors and didn't seem to care that inmates were still walking around openly. Because it was actually curfew in a few minutes. However, since no one prevented him from going to the showers, Erik didn't think about turning back.

When he got to the showers, there was no guard in front of it. No one was to be seen anyway. Maybe the showers were turned off?

Erik took a few steps into the shower area and heard water splashing. So at least they weren't turned off. He put his changing clothes and towel in an empty compartment and noticed that there was hardly anyone else. Only a black bathrobe and a towel hung on a hook. No change of clothes. Someone came here naked? And would go naked again? Brave.

It was dangerous to shower now; Erik was aware of that. But he hadn't gone all the way to the showers to turn back now. If there was only another man here anyway, there would be no problem. And if this became a reserved area, Erik would also wait until the shower was empty.

However, when he entered the shower room naked and the warm, stuffy air of mango shower gel poured into his nose, he saw the man in the far corner taking a shower. With his back to Erik, he was washing the shampoo from his brown hair. He wasn't very tall, maybe Antonio's size. Somehow narrow and yet muscular. A strange statue. But aesthetically. And not tattooed. A very rare sight.

Erik didn’t think twice and switched on the shower on the other end. He didn't want to bother the man. But before he could stand under the warm water, the man turned around. Their eyes met. The man looked good. His clean-shaven cheeks probably made him younger than he was.

When nothing happened after several seconds and they just looked at each other with interest, Erik pointed to the shower. "Is it okay if I take a quick shower?"

He would never have thought that being polite in prison would do any good. But the man suddenly smiled sweetly and nodded. "Of course." Then he turned around again.

Erik stood under the water and watched the ketchup flow from him and disappear into the sink.

"Is that blood?" The man asked carefully, looking over his shoulder at Erik.

"No, that's ketchup," Erik replied, lifting the corner of his mouth. "A few colleagues thought they were funny."

That probably amused the man a little as he lost the panicked look and instead smiled. "Okay, I thought something had happened again."

"No," Erik sighed, turning off the shower to rub himself with the soap. "Thank God no."

Erik felt that the man was watching him for a while before he turned the water off too. He heard his bare feet go over the tiles and finally disappear past Erik behind the compartments.

"Are you new here?" came his voice from the other side. Erik meanwhile washed himself off again.

"Yes. Since yesterday."

"Oh," the man said in surprise, peeking out from behind his head with a towel so he could look at Erik. He rubbed his hair dry. "How do you like it?"

Erik didn't quite know how to answer it, as if he turned around with a smile. "Is this a trick question?"

The man laughed with amusement and wrapped the towel around his neck like a scarf while rubbing off the water there. “Yes, probably. Sorry, it's shitty here, I know.”

"How long have you been here?" Erik asked, noting that he was actually having a normal conversation with someone for the first time since he arrived. Nobody bugged him with legal stuff or private things.

"For almost 5 months." The man disappeared behind the shelf. "Not that long, unlike many others here."

"Yeah, some have been here for years," Erik sighed, thinking that he wouldn't be spared being here for a few months. Thank God no longer than that. Anyway, Erik hoped so.

"Why are you here if I may ask?"

Erik hated the question, but actually struggled to answer it. Especially when the man was standing next to him, knotting his black bathrobe while staring at him curiously. Not once had his eyes gone to his cock. So was he really interested?

"Because of my ex-wife," Erik said, and was about to start another explanation when the brunette man grinned.

"I see," he said smugly, cocking his head. "Did she deserve it?"

The shower fell silent for a few seconds, until Erik broke eye contact and looked down. Although he had gone through the story so many times - in his head, with his lawyers, with the police - it was different. For the first time, someone asked him if _she_ deserved it. It took Erik a few moments to answer this question. Finally, he nodded. "Yes. Has she."

"I understand," said the man in a really sympathetic tone. “Most of them are here because they have executed vigilante justice. Unfortunately, that's against the law.”

Erik smiled at the statement. When their eyes met again, the man winked at him. "Buck up. With good behaviour, you can get out of here quickly.” He grabbed his towel and tucked it under his arm. "Take care of yourself. There are many crazy people here. Maybe you should avoid your ketchup friends too. „

"I would like to. But they won't leave me alone until so far,” sighed Erik, turning off the water. He passed the man and quickly dried himself.

"Then do something about it."

Erik laughed. "Should I throw ketchup on them too?"

The man smiled. But it was a cold smile. "No. Throw something more effective at them and they'll leave you alone quickly.”

"I don't want any trouble with the guards." Erik quickly put on his underpants. He was getting cold. Or was it the atmosphere?

“Nobody wants that here. But before you get harassed for the next few weeks and months? I would advise you to do something. And if it's just stones that you throw at them. Or putting little fork tips in their food.”

Erik didn’t know if those were sane suggestions or pure sarcasm. Because grating fork tips right into the food? Who would do that? How did one get such a sadistic idea?

"However, if you really want to do something with ketchup so that the idiots get it’s from you, you can lure them into the shower and put the bags in their asses," the man suggested, grinning almost from ear to ear.

 _Sarcasm_ , Erik told himself.

"I'll talk to them sometime."

Then the brunette man laughed and shook his head. "You are sweet. You don't fit in here.”

"You're probably right," Erik sighed, dressing completely. Both men left the shower room. Erik with the wet towel in his arms and his ketchup clothes in the other hand. There was still no guard anywhere. Let alone other inmates.

"Why isn't anyone here?" Erik finally asked, looking around furtively. "There were a lot of people passing the shower earlier."

"There are hardly any here at this time," the man said succinctly, and started walking. In the opposite direction from which Erik had come. "I like to shower alone."

"Sorry to disturb this calm," Erik said sincerely, trying to smile.

The man returned the smile. "Oh no. It was nice to talk in peace. The others are always a little difficult.”

"Oh yes," whispered Erik, walking the other way. With a little distance, both men stopped again.

"See you. If ketchup gets thrown at you or something else,” the man laughed, waving to Erik. "Good night."

With that, he left.

"Good night," Erik replied calmly, wondering if this man had been an inmate or if he was one of the guards. Maybe a visitor who got lost?

While Erik went back to his cell and got bawled out by guards three times on the way because the curfew had long started, he thought about taking a shower at this time more often.


	4. The deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter:  
> \- sexual harassement  
> \- bullying  
> \- mentioning of biting off fingers and biting off a penis  
> \- mentioning of shooting  
> \- racism

The next morning started calmer than the day before. Even Antonio left him and Tucker alone. Still, the mood seemed depressed. When Erik took a first walk through block A, he discovered the entrances to block B and C. Curiosity seized him, but the armed guards prevented him from just walking over there. So he turned around and went to visit Tucker at work.

"Maybe you should go find something," he says, packing small bottles of dye into boxes. With instructions, conditioner and gloves. "Time flies and you can earn a little bit money."

"I don't really need any money," Erik said, watching Tucker pack as if he were hypnotized.

“You don't smoke, but maybe you want to buy a coke or something. Or magazines.”

Erik had to smile. Tucker, the tough guy, was actually a pretty nice guy. He was really lucky that he got into a cell with such a teddy bear. An Antonio would have destroyed him.

"What else is there to do here?" Erik asked absently, looking around the room. Most of the men who worked here were the nice guys. Like Tucker. They sat at their tables and packed the utensils into the boxes. Everyone presumably regretted their crime. These guys were not repeat offenders.

Tucker paused briefly to think. Finally, he continued packing, keeping his eyes focused on the packaging. "Do you have an education?"

Erik pressed his lips together. He hated lies. That's why he decided to lie lightly. "None that could be used here."

“Then maybe you could do one. As a carpenter or something. You have to apply for it, however, and it can take up to two years before you get your turn. But you can think about it.”

“That is probably not an option. I'm looking for something where you can kill time with. As I said, I don't really need money.”

Tucker smiled and pushed a pack of dye away. "Are you rich? Does someone send you money?”

"No. I thought it was forbidden. Sending money,” Erik said.

"Well," Tucker shrugged. “Actually yes, but it's also forbidden to take drugs or drink alcohol. Nevertheless, everyone here is regularly high and drunk. „

Erik nodded cautiously. "Are you into stuff like that as well?"

"No," he laughed again. "I'm dry and I sold drugs, but the first rule in drug trafficking is: don't take them yourself. Otherwise you'll eventually become your own best clientele."

"You're right," Erik murmured, tapping his fingertips on the table. It was too boring for him to sit here. It didn't help him. He was looking for important information. "I'll take a look around."

"Don't get in trouble, Bub," Tucker said, winking at his buddy. Erik just smiled wearily and stood up.

At dinner, Antonio and his troops naturally came up to him again. "Hello princess," he actually only greeted Erik. Tucker was invisible to them. "Did you wash the blood off well?"

Erik tried to ignore him and ate his noodles. They didn't taste good. But served their purpose.

"You know," Antonio began to think and, once again, sat far too close to Erik. He put an arm around his waist. “I figured I'd hate to leave you to Candy. Better come to me. I treat you well. Give yourself sweets whenever you like.”

His slimy accent made the offer even more unattractive than it already was.

"Thank you, but no thanks," Erik politely declined and just continued eating.

"I don't think you understood me completely, sweetheart," laughed Antonio, running his free hand over Erik's leg. “You will be mine or Candy’s. And believe me, you don't want to be Candy's property.” He nodded at the group of men sitting around them. “They've already made bets on when you're going to leave us. Apparently, Candy already has an eye on you.”

"Does he want to fuck me or kill me?" Erik asked calmly, close at the border to being annoyed. Tucker didn't get a bite and just sat frozen across from Erik.

Antonio's gold teeth glittered in the dim light as he grinned crookedly. “You never really know that with Candy. Maybe both? Maybe he first tears your intestine out, fucks it and then shoves it back in for you. And when they sew you together, he'll knock your teeth out and use your cheeky mouth as a shitty cunt.”

The men around them, who used to have quiet conversations, now fell into complete silence. Erik eyed his troublemaker and moved the corners of his mouth.

"Your eloquence is really fascinating."

"Mine _what_ , you son of a bitch?" Antonio asked, not knowing what eloquent meant. Erik didn't want to start a fight, even though he felt that he was about to earn a fist.

“I'm not going to be your whore or Candy’s. Why does everyone here think I need a sugar daddy?”

"You're new," said one of Antonio's group. His accent was even stronger than that of the others. “Everyone belongs somewhere. Your friend here? He belongs to the pussies. They get fucked a few times and then you drop them because they're boring. Look at him, a muscle man, but nothing behind it. What do you want with that?”

When Erik squinted at Tucker, he looked sadly at his food. It may have sounded like an insult at first, but Erik knew that the decision to be 'boring' was a good one. Because he would survive. Neither Candy nor Antonio would put their fingers on Tucker. And that seemed to have been gold in the current prison situation. It's a shame that Erik wasn't given the time to be 'boring'.

"You are interesting, princess," Antonio purred, moving his hand up on Erik's leg. "You are cute. A little used up, but good looking. You must have a nice woman waiting for you at home.”

Erik said nothing.

“If you want to see her again, you should stick to me. I promise you will survive the whole thing here.” His warm hand went into Erik's crotch. And squeezed. "As long as you do what I tell you."

If they hadn't been in prison and wouldn't have had heavily armed men around every corner, Erik would have slapped his face. With full force. And then maybe kicked him in the butt.

Maybe the man in the shower had been right. It was time to fight back.

"Stay away," Erik said in a calm but vibrating voice. Tucker winced. It was the first time Erik had sharpened his tone.

"Or what?" giggled Antonio, biting his lip as he ran his fingertips over Erik's penis. Rejection apparently turned him on.

"Or I feel compelled to do something about it," Erik replied, grasping Antonio's wrist. He felt all eyes on them. "Last warning."

"Oho," sneered the greasy Latino, running his tongue over his lips. "Show me what you'd do, you little dirty crap!"

So he was also into degradation. Erik had to admit that it was an interesting mix together with his character.

"These fingers," said Erik, lifting his wrist very gently, which was previously in his crotch. Antonio allowed it, thinking Erik was just bluffing. "You touched something only someone with my permission is allowed to touch."

The air became stuffy. Tucker had probably stopped breathing. Only Antonio seemed excited enough to let Erik go on. His stiff dick was already clearly visible through the thin grey pants.

"That has to be punished, hasn't it?" Erik asked rhetorically, raising both eyebrows while not breaking eye contact with Antonio. Instead, he brought his hand closer to him. Finally he grabbed Antonio's hand a little more tightly and raised his middle finger. Antonio's eyes followed Erik excitedly. He even opened his own mouth in anticipation. Erik gently stuck out his tongue to lick Antonio's middle finger. Salty. Smelled like smoke and tasted bitter. Not a pleasant thing.

Just when Erik thought he had already given Antonio an orgasm and was willing to finally bite down, a hand reached for his shoulder.

"Enough now," said the guard, pointing to the group of men all around Erik and Antonio, watching intently. “Eat up and go back to your cells. The curfew is coming soon. „

Interestingly, everyone got up and went their own way. Antonio turned around again and licked his lips. Erik cursed himself for not being faster. Now Antonio thought they would continue this soon.

But maybe that also played in Erik's hands.

"That was crass," breathed Tucker when they were on their way to their cell. "You wanted to bite his finger off, right?"

"That was the plan, yes," said Erik unimpressed, and immediately grabbed his towel when they reached their room. "I'm going to take a quick shower."

“Now? It's curfew. The guards already saw you walking around yesterday.”

"Antonio touched me," Erik said with a pinch of truth. “I don't want to take that to bed. I would also like to wash my mouth with soap. His fingers were disgusting.”

He left their cell and went to the showers with quick steps. In fact, the corridors thinned out the closer he got to the premises. A pleasant smell of soap spread across his nose. _Mango_.

When he reached the locker room, he heard the soothing splash of a shower.

The black bathrobe was hanging in the same place again.

Erik undressed and went past the shelf to take the shower, which he had occupied the day before, but there he was. The man.

A little surprised Erik took a step back and blinked on the white back of the man. He turned slowly, smiling broadly when he saw Erik.

"Hi," he said cheerfully, blinking a few times. “Here again? Today, however, without ketchup, I see. „

"Yes," Erik replied stupidly and went on to the next shower. "Today without ketchup."

"Did you speak to the guys?" Asked the brunette man with the small waves in his hair without starting some small talk.

Erik switched on the shower next to him and looked into his eyes. They were blue. At the hairline on his forehead he already had isolated strands of grey hair. His age was difficult to estimate. However, when Erik noticed that he was staring, he looked at his soap and started to foam it up in his hands. "I have. Unfortunately, it didn't have the result I was hoping for.”

"Well," the man began, rubbing his hair a few times, "I could have predicted that."

There was a brief silence. Erik felt the blue eyes on his hands.

"May I?" The man finally asked, pointing to the soap in Erik's hands.

"Sure."

Their hands touched briefly when he handed over the soap.

Erik didn't quite understand why he wanted his soap when he had one that smelled so much better of mango.

"Exactly what," the man began to say, spreading the already foamed soap over his torso, "did happen today?"

"Antonio sexually harassed me again," Erik said, and was surprised that he mentioned the name of his tormentor for the first time. He actually wanted to remain neutral. But the will to bite his finger clearly showed that the other will, which was initially in Antonio's favour, was slowly weakening. "Then I warned him to keep his hands off me."

The man kept soaping himself as if he had all the time in the world. His eyes were strictly on the floor, while his hands ran the soap over his skin. Erik only watched him through the corner of his eye.

"Of course he didn't," the man concluded quietly when Erik didn't speak.

"Yes. So I wanted to bite his finger off.”

Any normal person would have looked horrified. Like Tucker, who would still be as white as a sheet if Erik returned, even if nothing had happened in the end. But the man who had a really nice smile grinned as broadly as if Erik had told him the best joke in weeks.

"You wanted to bite his finger off," he repeated, amused, and finally put the soap back on the holder next to Erik's shower. “But you didn't. In any case, there was no ketchup or blood on you.”

"No, a security guard interrupted us."

"How lucky," he sighed, cocking his head to put some water on his face. He closed his eyes and seemed to enjoy the warmth on his skin. "That could have ended badly."

"Probably," grumbled Erik, watching the man unabashedly. After all, his eyes were closed.

“Do you know what would have happened? Because I don't think you know.”

That made Erik turn his eyes in a circle. "Enlighten me."

The man stepped out of the water jet and wiped his eyes. Eventually, his eyes hardened. “Antonio's men would have grabbed you and probably stabbed you in front of the guards. In the end, a few shots would have been fired and maybe there would have been a few dead. Everyone would have rioted.”

As he spoke, it sounded like he was speaking from experience.

“You would have been taken to the infirmary. There you would have been patched up and brought to court again. Statement against statement, as it always is. You would have had a few more years and your release due to good behaviour would have been even more distant.”

He took a few steps towards Erik and examined his chest. But it was more of a thoughtful stare. A small frown line spread across his forehead.

“They would have put you in block B or C. And I tell you: there are no rules. Everyone does what they want. „

"I heard that," Erik muttered, watching the man. The mood suddenly became oppressive.

"Yeah?" He asked, bursting a soap bubble on Erik's chest with his index finger. An intimate gesture. But his hand immediately went back to his side. "What did you hear?"

"That a lot of people die in block C and that the guards don't really do anything about it."

"Oh, yes, that's right," the man nodded, his lips pressed together. “A lot of people die. But not so many that it wouldn't be overcrowded anyway. „

“Which block are you in? In C?” Erik asked, knowing he couldn't be in block A. After his walk today, he should at least have met him once.

"Yes, block C," the man breathed, looking up at Erik. "I can confirm that things are different over there."

“Then why are you taking a shower in block A? How do you get over here?” Erik felt an uncomfortable feeling crawling up his spine.

The man smiled gently and took a step back. He got into the shower again and stroked his hair. Finally, he turned off the tap. “I don't like showering in C over there. If you look like me, people like to use us as animal feed. You know what I mean."

Erik could have guessed that the rape culture in block C was exactly what you knew from movies.

“Here in A no one bothers me. And do you know Hank?” The man asked as he simply turned around and went to his towel. "I bring him little inside information and for that he lets me pass the locks. He is a nice man. Sometimes he brings me chocolate.” Erik heard him laugh. “I think he likes me a bit more, but that's okay. He leaves me alone so far. We both benefit from the situation.”

Erik also turned off the shower and followed the man to the locker room. "So you're spying?"

The man winced. As if Erik had said a very uncomfortable word. "Not really. The information Hank receives from me is inattentive. A new tattoo or a stupidly chosen drug deal that would have been exposed anyway. I'm just speeding up the process. „

"Isn't that dangerous?" Erik asked, watching the man dry himself. For the first time he looked between his legs. But immediately looked away again.

"Probably yes," the man sighed, wrapping his towel around his head as he had the day before. "But not as dangerous as biting a off finger in the middle of the canteen when armed guards are around you."

Then Erik had to smile. "You are right."

"If you want to bite something off, take his cock," the man suggested, and Erik was surprised to find that the small, somewhat sweet man wasn't as cute as he looked. “Pretend you're playing along. Lure him into the shower. Give him a blowjob. Then off it is,” he laughed, gesturing with his hands how the bitten penis would fall out of his mouth.

"I'm not sure I want his penis in my mouth," Erik admitted, remembering how disgusting it was to have just one finger in his mouth.

"Inhibitions?" The man giggled and took a big step towards Erik. His nose almost touched Erik's chin. “You are here in another world. The laws from outside do not apply here. Do you find gays disgusting? Get used to it. Here are a lot of horny stallions who all want to sink their cocks into you. And either you're topping or bottoming.”

Erik sensed that the man just wanted to teach him a lesson. Wanted to help him. But Erik wasn't a master at giving good answers, so he just started asking. "And where are you?"

The man smiled broadly. Erik just couldn't help it and returned the smile. For a while they just stood there and smiled at each other. "Do you want to find out?"

Erik knew that such a question would come up. But he didn't have a good response. Of course, the answer should have been 'No' like everyone else, but he didn't want to destroy this new relationship, which was _normal_ under the circumstances given. But a clear 'yes' didn't come out of his lips either.

The man felt Erik wrestling with himself, so he laughed and slapped Erik's chest with the palm of his hand. The rest of the moisture made it sound particularly loud in the shower room. "You know what? I like you. And I hate Antonio as much as you do. He's a bursa and thinks he has block A under control.” Erik watched the man swing into his black bathrobe. "But he doesn’t."

"Yeah," Erik said softly, still standing there naked. With a towel in his hand. He wondered how the man knew Antonio when he was actually in block C. But maybe you got to know personalities like Antonio and Candy despite the different blocks.

"I'll help you," he said, and tied the robe belt. “Try to get him here tomorrow night. Only he. Here in the shower. Tell him it's empty, you've been here the past few days. I'll tell Hank that we need to be alone. „

"I don't know if I want to do that." Erik swallowed. “Like, with his penis. In my mouth."

“Don't worry about it, scaredy-cat. I'll do it for you,” the man said, his lips pressed together as if he were talking to a child who wouldn't dare to make an uncomfortable phone call. “Your job will only be to bring him here. I'll do the rest for you. „

Erik wasn't sure what exactly he was getting into. Because the way the man put it, it didn't look like a simple prank that they would play Antonio.

"I don't think he'll fall for it."

"Antonio is as stupid as his badly made gold teeth sparkle," the man whispered, reaching for Erik's towel to put it on his shoulders. He started gently wiping the drops from Erik's cleavage. "He's looking for submission because he can't take the size of his own cock."

The man laughed briefly at his own joke.

“Just tell him what he wants to hear. That you belong to him, that you want to show him how much, and stuff like that. He believes everything. „

"And then? Even if he was so stupid to come here alone - which I don't think - what do we do? He'll hardly let you blow him.”

The man shook his head. "This is true. I’ll come up with something until tomorrow. He'll learn his lesson.”

As Erik was gently dried like a mother would take care of her child, he felt a tingling sensation in his feet. That he should run away. As fast as he could. Because at what price would this man help him?

"What do you want me to do?"

"For my help?" He asked when he started drying Erik's stomach.

"Yes."

He seemed to be thinking. "Maybe your name?"

"That's all? My name? I'm sure you already know it. You look like a well-informed guy. „

The man smirked and slid down the towel. He rubbed lovingly over Erik's hips. "You're right, but it's nicer if you tell me yourself."

"Erik," he said without saying much more.

"Hello Erik," the man purred. And as often as the mood changed during this one conversation, the change came unexpectedly: he grabbed both ends of the towel and pulled them in his direction, leaving Erik with no choice but to fall against him. The man purred again, this time with his lips to Erik's chin. He could feel the vibration of the individual words. "Do you want to know my name too?"

And just as the whole thing was building up, Erik suddenly regretted his carelessness. That he just walked into this shower and let himself be drawn into a pact. With a man whose name he didn't know. With a man who came from block C. What if -

"Yes," Erik breathed, tensing every muscle in his body.

The man grinned broadly. "I'm Charles."

Then he leaned forward, gave Erik a quick kiss on the lips, and let go of both him and the towel. "Tomorrow, 8:00 p.m.," he called through the corridor and waved to Erik again before he went around the corner and left the shower.

Erik breathed a sigh of relief and left the shower with shaky knees five minutes later. On the way there, he mentally recited the man's name like a mantra.


	5. Charles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter:  
> \- sexual harassement  
> \- bullying  
> \- killing/murdering  
> \- blood/violence  
> \- rape  
> \- mentioning of mental disorder (alexithymia)  
> \- racism

The night had been cruel. Not only because there were constant groans in the halls, but also because Erik couldn't sleep due to nervousness. He kept thinking about Charles and the pact. About what would happen tonight. Whether he would really ambush Antonio. Whether it would make things better or just make things worse.

They said Erik should adapt. But how far should this adjustment go?

"You're kind of different today," Tucker said, shaving on the small sink in the cell before breakfast. "Something happened?"

Erik gritted his teeth softly, but one couldn't see his nervousness. "No, not really," he lied, rubbing his short, tousled hair.

It was obvious that Tucker didn't believe Erik, but he didn't ask any further questions. Instead, he frowned and nodded as if he understood everything. "Say if you need any help."

Erik needed it. But he didn't want to pull Tucker in. His dear soul should find its peace wrapping box dye and not in a prison shower.

Antonio and his gang were not at breakfast. Like the day before. They were probably not all early risers. Erik walked down the aisles and stood again in front of the locks to block B and C. There were guards in front of it, but he didn't know whether one of them was Hank.

Then around noon at lunch he saw Antonio sitting at a table with his colleagues. Tucker was already going the other way with his tray of food when Erik nudged him.

"I'll sit with Antonio," he announced, nodding in his direction.

"What? Why?” Tucker asked shocked, looking panicked in the direction of the Latin American group. „Let it be! The guy just threw ketchup at you! At some point he will lose interest in you!”

Maybe Tucker was right. But he had little time to wait. What if Antonio changed his mind in the meantime and decided that he had to catch Erik and rape him somewhere? Erik was tall and well built, Antonio alone wouldn't have had a chance. But he had friends. Erik didn't have that. At least not in the multitude. Because Charles couldn't help him during the day. He was sitting at the other end of the prison.

"I just have to shoot the bolt on him, that's all," Erik said calmly, turning away. “Just sit somewhere else today. I'll be with you again tonight.”

Tucker certainly wanted to say something else to keep him from doing what he was going to do, but Erik was already halfway to his tormentor.

Shortly before he could reach the table, Erik probed the situation. There were some guards around them. Armed as always. One of them stared at him intently. It was the same guard that had kept him from biting Antonio's finger the previous day. He kept his eyes on Erik, but did not step in as he sat down at the table with Antonio.

"Look, who do we have here?" Asked one of the gang, grinning maliciously. "Your toy is there, boss."

Oh, how classic. _Boss_.

"Hello Princess. Did you change your mind?” Antonio greeted him warmly, gesturing with a hand that the man should get up next to Erik so that he himself could sit next to Erik. His short, dirty fingers were back in Erik's lap in an instant.

"Maybe," Erik muttered, biting his lower lip. He had never beguiled or seduced a man before, but he simply copied Charles. Because he seemed to be a professional in turning other men's heads. So Erik cocked his head a little and tried to look through his eyelashes.

"Oh boy," Antonio sighed heartbreakingly, actually seeming to fall for the lie after just one word. "How do I get the honour?"

"I'm afraid of Candy," Erik admitted sadly. “I don't want to be found dead in my cell at some point just because Candy doesn't want me anymore. And since you promised to protect me if I did everything you said,” whirred Erik, putting his hand on Antonio's leg in disgust, "I want to hear what you have to say to me. "

The little man didn't react at first, almost froze when he saw Erik's hand on his leg, but quickly got around when the next table made a noise with their trays. "How nice," he breathed, biting his lip as he moved his hand into Erik's crotch. He squeezed his member again and Erik had to pull himself together tremendously not to knock out all his teeth. “How about afterwards in the kitchen? When all employees are gone. I can give us some space. Then we'll discuss everything.”

Yes, it would have been far too easy if Erik could have made the suggestion where to meet.

"Why not in the shower tonight?" Erik proposed an alternative in a sweet voice. “I've been showering there for the past two days. You remember. After your ketchup attack.”

Antonio just grinned broadly and ran his tongue over his lips.

“Nobody was there. We would be alone and you can take a closer look at me.”

The last sentence immediately convinced Antonio, because he nodded eagerly. "Good idea, princess." He came a little closer and put his other hand on Erik's lower back. His mouth was so close to Erik's ear that he could hear every smacking sound. “I'll fuck you so hard that you'll have to stay in bed for the next few days. And then I'll fuck you again. And again, and again. „

Erik's lid started to twitch. "Sounds wonderful."

"Good ..." Antonio grumbled, licking Erik's ear. Erik instinctively jerked away and could have slapped himself in the face immediately. But his tormentor didn’t suspect anything.

"Then at 8pm?" Erik suggested again, trying to steer things in the direction of the plan. "Let's meet right in front of the showers."

"Where'd my manners be, princess," laughed Antonio, reaching for Erik's crotch one last time. “I'll pick you up, of course. And then we go to the showers together. This is how we make sure that absolutely nobody is there.”

That made Erik swallow. The feeling that he had just dug himself his own grave became stronger. What if Charles didn't show up?

Nevertheless, Erik nodded kindly and got up again. Maybe he'd prefer to eat at Tucker's table after all. To his surprise Antonio let him go. Only a disgusting smack in the air followed.

The guard, meanwhile, had taken his eyes off Erik and what was happening. Maybe he had just imagined the intense staring.

"What happened?" Tucker asked curiously, eating his rice like a threshing barn.

"I'll meet him tonight," whispered Erik softly enough that only Tucker could understand him. “Please don't tell anyone about it. But should I not be back in the cell after an hour, send a guard to find me, okay?”

Tucker's face went pale. "You are crazy."

"Do you promise me?"

His friend nodded. "Y-yes. Yes of course. Where’re you gonna meet?”

“At the showers. But I don't know if we'll stay there.”

Two men, sitting a little further away, turned to them curiously. Erik got a feeling they had overheard what was said. But even if - they wouldn't be able to do anything with the information. Charles would make sure that nobody was at the showers.

Tucker also ate Erik's portion out of nervousness. Erik, on the other hand, looked around the canteen several times. The guards had their eyes elsewhere, but not on Erik. Antonio's eyes rarely flitted to him, too.

He didn't really trust Charles, so he stuck a plastic knife in an unobserved moment. It was not very stable, but with enough strength and the right place, he could defend himself. A plastic knife can hurt a lot when put into an eyeball.

The advantage of being naked was that Antonio couldn't be armed. The downside was that Erik couldn't be armed either. So in the afternoon he went to the showers and hid the plastic knife in a niche between two compartments. He was sure that he was being watched, so he took a shower afterwards to disguise that he was actually up to something.

As the evening drew closer, Erik's haste increased. But for others he seemed very calm. Tucker's hands trembled even more so when they were sitting in the canteen at dinner.

"How can you be so calm?" Tucker asked, rubbing his hands several times as he examined his fish. He was probably not a fish fan. “What are you going to do? Do you want him ... you don't really want to do anything with him, do you? Like ... sexual? „

"Of course not," whispered Erik, eating a bite of his fish. It was dry and tasteless. The food in jail was actually not good. But in which canteen it was. "I'm just going to trouble him a little so he'll leave us alone."

"Don't make it worse," Tucker pleaded, leaning over to Erik. “If they catch you, you may be transferred! And you don't want to go to block C because of that!”

Of course, his bed neighbour was not entirely wrong. But at least he would have Charles there. He'd take care of him, wouldn't he?

Maybe his trust in the actually unknown man was a little too high. His calm, if somewhat strange manner had convinced Erik that he was one of the normal guys. On the other hand: why was he in block C then? He must have done a lot to land there. Erik simply concluded that Charles probably only wanted to protect himself and that he was eventually caught, which resulted in a transfer. How high would be the probability that Charles was a mean and sneaky murderer who lured Erik into a trap?

Erik couldn't answer the question with 100%, so he ate his portion with a heavy feeling in his stomach. He had never made the best decisions in life, but this one should turn out to be a disaster.

At half past seven Antonio stood in front of his cell and knocked on the door as if he were a gentleman picking up his date for the evening. "Hello, princess," he greeted Erik, grinning at Tucker crookedly. “Your escort service is there.”

Erik wanted to throw up already.

"You're too early," he said, knowing that Antonio had planned it.

"I couldn't wait for you that long," he whispered, running his hand over Erik's chest. Antonio was the same size as Charles. He was half a head shorter than Erik. In any case, they both had one thing in common: they liked to touch Erik in intimate places. But Charles’s aura was a lot more pleasant than Antonio’s.

Tucker said nothing and just sat stunned at the small table. "W-where are you going, Erik?" He asked, probably aiming to let his inner actor out. He only partially succeeded.

"We're going to smoke another cigarette, Tucker," Erik lied, smiling wearily.

Instead of hinting that Erik wasn't smoking, Tucker just nodded and smiled back. "I see."

Antonio then grabbed Erik's wrist and pulled him out of the cell. As they walked silently down the corridor, Erik saw in the corner of his eye that two large men were following them. Guys from Antonio's group.

"So you want them to watch us?" Erik asked in a calm tone, trying to look ahead, even though Antonio's fingers were already touching and stroking his lower back.

'They'll take care of us, you know? I don't trust you yet. Neither do you trust me, I assume. But I assure you, they won't touch you. Unless you make them do it.”

Erik just nodded and let himself be pushed down the aisle. They were too early. And not alone. Charles would not be there yet. And even if: there were only two of them. But on Antonio’s side were three of them. Certainly, armed with some self-made shit.

When they reached the showers, Erik felt his heart beat faster in his chest. Not a security guard in sight. No person. Nowhere. Only he, Antonio and Antonio's bodyguards.

"You're waiting here," said their boss, pointing to the entrance to the shower. "I'll go and clarify everything with Princess and call you if I need you."

Erik felt his knees slowly shake. He had dug his own grave. No way out. Even if he beat the living daylights out of Antonio, the two closet-like men would be on his own neck in less than two seconds and break his spine.

The shower was empty. No water splashed. No black bathrobe hung there. Erik tried to catch in the corner of his eye if his plastic knife was still in the niche. But he passed it too quickly.

'Take off your clothes, princess. But slowly,” grinned Antonio, leaning against a wall while Erik was standing in the middle of the shower room.

Erik struggled with whether to undress or beat Antonio. But since his options were still very limited, he had no choice but to waste an enormous amount of time so that Charles could be there in half an hour to help him.

So while he was undressing, he remembered that Charles probably wouldn't even get in the shower anymore.

"Shit," he whispered to himself as he pulled his shirt over his head. After the pants were on the floor, Antonio indicated that he should bring the clothes to the other side of the room. Erik did as he was asked to do. Just as he turned his back on Antonio, he felt his weight on him throwing him on the floor. Antonio seemed small but heavy.

Hot breath spread across Erik's ear. Nimble fingers found their way under his underpants and tugged on them. “Did you think I was yesterday? You want to meet here alone? Then do what, huh? Stab me with a fucking plastic knife?”

Erik swore and tried to shake Antonio off, but he kept him down.

"We found this one," he whispered, showing Erik the plastic knife, he had hidden. “You are pathetic, princess! Now shut up so I can fuck you!”

His stiff penis was already pressing through Erik's underpants between his cheeks. "Fuck you!" Erik whispered, still trying to crawl away.

"Oh, I'm fucking you!" Antonio laughed manically, pulling Erik's underpants so hard that they tore. The piece of cloth was under them in no time. His butt was bare.

But Erik managed to push Antonio down a bit and hit him with his elbow. Right in his face.

He heard him screaming and saw the first drops of blood. Erik quickly rolled over and saw Antonio's nose bleeding. _Very good_ , he thought, and crawled away. But before he could get up, the two big men came in and grabbed him by both arms. They dragged him into a shower corner, roughly throwing him against the tiles. A rib cracked dangerously loud.

“Hold him tight, damn it! It's a really stubborn beast!” Antonio said, wiping the blood off his face. Meanwhile, the men grabbed Erik's arms and legs to keep him still. Erik gasped but did not call for help. It wouldn't work, right? Nobody was there.

The move of the men had slid the plastic knife across the floor. It was too far away. Erik couldn't even see it anymore. All he had in front of him was the slightly mouldy shower wall.

Antonio sat on Erik's legs and started taking out his cock. The glans grazed Erik's cheeks. “You can be glad I like that shit. Fuck, are you making me horny!” He whispered like a disgusting pig and leaned forward to slowly slide into Erik. But nothing would work without lubricant, so he grabbed soap scraps from the floor and rubbed it around his penis. He didn't seem to care much about hygiene. The thought of having something like that in him disgusted Erik even more. So he tried to use this disgust for his benefit.

"Don't you want to know what diseases I have?" Erik whispered, hoping that he would have access to the little common sense in Antonio that was left. But to no avail.

"I don't give a shit," he grunted, pressing the glans against Erik's entrance.

That was when Erik felt hot and cold at the same time. He would probably pass out. Good thing, he thought. Like that he would not witness the spectacle and, with a little luck, would simply drown in a shower puddle.

There were steps. Splashing across the wet floor. Someone ran across the tiles with bare feet.

"What the hell -" whispered one of the big guys as he was already toppling over. Antonio pulled himself away from Erik, as did the other big guy. Erik turned his head as fast as he could and saw Charles punching them in the face with his bare fist. You could see his muscles pulsing through the half-open bathrobe. Every vein was visible on his arm.

Antonio couldn't react as quickly as Charles struck. The two big guys were also on the floor, holding their jaws. Blood dripped onto the floor.

One of the guys pulled out a spring knife and heaved to its feet.

"Oh, I love that," chuckled Charles full of adrenaline, grinning at the guy who came at him hell for leather; the knife willingly stretched forward. Erik was still on the ground, but he stretched his leg out quick-thinkingly and brought the attacker down.

Charles laughed out loud when the knife blade slipped into the guy's hand and he cried out.

"Very nice!" He cheered, kicking the other guy with enormous force. There was an uncomfortably loud crack and the man fell unconscious on the floor.

Erik's heart was pounding so loud that he could only hear a rustling in his ears. Antonio got up and snatched the knife from his bodyguard's hand. He cried out, but remained there. Instead, Antonio tried his luck with Erik.

“You bastard! You traitor!” he shouted, running towards him. Erik dodged - more accidentally because the floor was so slippery - and let Antonio run against the wall. In the corner of his eye he saw Charles grab the other big guy and hurled him against the wall. Unfortunately, he dragged Charles with him so that he fell against the shower regulator. Holding his chest in pain, he remained in his position for a moment.

The guy’s groan grew louder as he tried to stand up and kicked Charles's leg with full force. He went down and gasped loudly. Antonio grabbed the knife again and ran towards Erik. With more luck than brains, Erik ducked and did what the big guy had done to Charles: pull him aside. Without thinking too much, he rammed him against the shower regulator with his chest. Antonio screamed and went to the floor. He gasped but didn't get up. The knife slid over the floor to Charles, who grabbed it and stabbed the guy in the leg. For that he got a punch in the face.

The guy pulled out the knife as if nothing had happened. Charles, on the other hand, groaned in pain on the floor and crawled away as best he could. He grinned nonetheless like a cheeky villain in the guy’s face. “You shouldn't have pulled the knife out. Now you're now bleeding to death,” he laughed manically, holding his bleeding mouth.

Armed with the knife, he approached Charles. “I'll still make it to the infirmary. You won’t.” He jumped to Charles, who was fighting him in a pool of blood and water. The knife was about to hit his body.

Erik only saw Charles gasp and fight for his life. Eventually he discovered the plastic knife lying on the floor. Not far from the two.

He grabbed it, ran to the big guy and stabbed it in his throat. It broke off, but the tip got stuck in his skin. The blood spurted on Charles, who was tormented by the weight of the guy.

Suddenly the chunk went motionless to the ground. Blood spread. Charles crawled out from under him.

"Charles," Erik breathed, dropping the remaining piece of plastic knife. "Are you okay?"

"So-so," he laughed, however, and held his chest. "The guy had a lot of strength."

Erik grabbed his helper and pulled him completely out from under the guy. He bled slowly and was finally passing out. He was going to die.

Just like the other one. Erik looked around and blinked in the direction of the man Charles had killed. Probably broken the backbone.

"He's still alive," whispered Charles as he sat up carefully. His black bathrobe was covered in blood. Only now did Erik realize that Charles had come here for a shower as always. Only with a bathrobe. No weapons. Nothing. Why was he so unprepared?

"No, he's dead," Erik corrected in a calm tone, although he was far from calm inside.

"I mean Antonio," Charles breathed, pointing to Erik's tormentor with bloody fingers. In fact, he was still lying on the floor with his eyes open and sniffing.

Erik put an arm around Charles so they both could walk a few steps. Antonio was lying on his back amid a pool of blood from his protector, trying to breathe. His eyes went panicked to Charles and Erik, who were just staring at him.

"He can't breathe," Erik said, watching Antonio's eyes turn red.

"Yeah," Charles breathed, who had an arm around Erik’s shoulder. His nose touched Erik's cheek gently. “You probably broke a couple of his ribs when you rammed him against the shower control. A bone has probably pressed into the lungs. „

"Probably," Erik said flatly, just watching Antonio choke. It was a very uncomfortable feeling to watch a man die. But Erik felt no empathy for him. So he didn't do anything. In addition, they already had two bodies here. What would a third one do?

It was probably Charles’s thought too, because he just continued to hang in Erik’s arms and stared at his face. Not Antonio. No, just at Erik.

After an unbearably long minute, Antonio finally froze.

"He should leave you alone now," Charles laughed softly and finally let go of Erik. He limped cautiously to the wall and sat next to Antonio's body. “You showed him properly how not to deal with you. I'm proud of you, Erik.”

"We killed three men," he said, straightening up a little. His bones hurt. His skin was irritated. He would have liked to cover his naked body. "That will have consequences."

"Maybe," said Charles calmly, leaning his head against the wall. His grin widened. “You are pretty calm. I didn't think you’d be.”

Erik didn't answer at first, but stared at Antonio's body.

“You look worried, but not excited. It wasn't your first time fighting, but you haven't had any real experience either. I wonder -"

"I have alexithymia," Erik interrupted tonelessly.

Charles blinked and lost his smile. "Excuse me, what?"

Erik tore his eyes away from Antonio's body and looked at Charles. „I am emotionally blind. It is difficult for me to express emotions ... or to recognize them.”

Blue eyes widened. "Oh! That explains a lot."

Erik frowned. "Does it?"

Charles smiled a particularly sweet smile. “Any normal person would have been far more afraid. Both to meet me alone in a shower and to drag Antonio into a shower with two tall men. Above all, no one would have approved my plan. After only two days. „

"I had faith in our plan ..."

"Above all, you trusted me," growled Charles as he tried to get up. Erik helped him by supporting his arm. "I am very honoured."

He smiled again in Erik's direction and put an arm around his neck.

"I admit that I was in doubt for a moment as to whether you'd come at all," Erik admitted, while Charles’ thumb brushed his jaw gently.

"Justified doubts," grinned Charles. “Another guy might not have come to help you. That's how people are here. But you piqued my interest. So why not help you? It was fun.”

Erik didn't really know what part of their massacre should have been funny, but Charles seemed to have had a very special sense of humour. In general, he didn't look quite normal. But more normal than the rest of the inmates.

"Thanks," Erik said finally.

Blue eyes blinked and Charles' smile faded.

'That you helped me. You got injured quite badly. „

Suddenly Charles didn't seem to be able to find any words. He toggled eye contact between Erik's eyes as if he didn't know which eye to focus on to find an answer.

When nothing happened after several seconds and Charles was just hanging in Erik's arms, he looked around furtively eventually. "I'll take you to the infirmary and I'll take care of the bodies."

"What are you going to do with them?" Charles asked curiously, slowly straightening up. His hands slipped on Erik's chest. And stayed there.

"I honestly don't know," Erik admitted, his lips pressed together. „Putting them somewhere? At least the crime scene can be cleaned well. „

Then Charles laughed again in his old way. “God, I love you, Erik. You are such a sweetheart.”

Erik looked at him with wide, confused eyes.

"You have my humour," Charles joked, patting Erik's chest. “I'll take care of the bodies. Do not worry."

“You take care very often when it come to things like this. Let me guess: this is not the first time you've let corpses disappear.”

Charles eyed him again with great interest. As if he was trying to read something in Erik's eyes. "Nobody with a clear mind would ask me that because they were afraid of the answer."

"You heard that I'm a special case."

"Yes, I have. You don't always make wise decisions, but you make them with conviction…” Charles murmured, fascinated by his opposite, and stroked Erik's cheek.

The moment was over before Erik could wonder why he allowed such touches at all.

"Get dressed, handsome man," Charles said, pointing to Erik's clothes that were still on the other side of the shower room. Thank God they weren’t covered in blood and water. “Go back to your cell. I let Hank know that I need to fix something here. And then I can only hope you’ll find some sleep tonight.”

"Why shouldn't I?" Erik asked, pulling on his uniform and collecting the remains of his underpants from the floor.

“For many, the first murder is more like…” Charles needed to think for a moment, “Let's say uncomfortable. Even if they wanted to kill, the image of the dead is still burned into the cornea. It will probably stay with you for some time.”

Erik stopped moving for a moment. Then he turned to Charles and stared into his blue eyes, which looked at him pitifully.

"It wasn't my first murder," Erik corrected, looking at Antonio. “I killed my ex-wife. That is why I am here."

But Charles only smiled wearily, as if he was stamping the statement as a lie. Erik wondered what had betrayed him. “Good night, Erik. Sleep well and ... don't worry about the bodies. I'll take care of them for you.”

Erik stopped at the door. “At some point you will ask me a favour, won't you? You're not doing this out of charity.”

"You're right," Charles agreed, approaching Erik one last time. “I'll come to you at some point and ask for something. But not now. Maybe someday. Right now, I'm just enjoying your presence. And it would be a shame if it were lost in an isolation cell.”

He gave Erik a kiss on the lips and finally pushed him out of the shower.

As Erik walked down the empty, somewhat dark hallway, he checked the clock. It had been just 20 minutes since Antonio got him out of the cell.

20 minutes and he had three lives on his head.

Erik's knees trembled again when he finally reached his room. Tucker's face was white as a sheet. Erik must have looked like that too, because for the first time Tucker stretched out his arms and hugged him. Erik usually hated foreign hugs, but at that moment it felt good to be surrounded by so much muscles. They gave him the support he needed for that moment.

Maybe Charles had been right: the first murder was uncomfortable. Especially because Erik - just like Charles - called it the _first_ murder. As if some would follow.


	6. Mr. Shaw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings for this chapter:  
> \- mutilation  
> \- violent murder

Indeed, the night had not been very good. Still, Erik didn't feel drained. On the contrary, he was still waiting for the guards to storm into his cell to pick him up.

But nothing like that happened. He and Tucker went to the canteen for breakfast as normal. There were a few more guards around them, but nothing else happened.

Antonio was missing, of course. His group was sitting with their heads between their shoulders at a table a little further away from Erik and Tucker. They seemed to have heard the news already.

"Where's Antonio?" Tucker finally asked softly, leaning over the table to catch Erik's attention. But he just kept staring in the direction of the now leaderless group. Tucker thought he and Antonio had banged hard yesterday. Erik had kept the truth a secret.

"Haven't you heard it yet?" came a voice from one of Tucker’s work colleagues. Erik had seen him a few times before. He also packed colorants. He was one of the good guys here. "He is dead."

"Shit," breathed Tucker, and looked at Erik immediately. "Did you know that?"

But Erik said nothing. He wasn't sure yet how Charles had managed to keep them both out of this disaster. And as long as he couldn't say for sure that he was off the hook, he had to lie. Or just say nothing.

"How did it happen?" Tucker asked when he got no response from Erik. He turned completely to his colleague, who played with his fork in his mashed potatoes.

“They found him and two of his bodyguards in the trash. The bodies were completely dismembered. You hardly recognized who it should have been. „

Erik's breath caught. His heart stopped for a second.

"Oh fuck," Tucker said. Yes, Erik would have said something like that too. His roommate asked in a much quieter voice: "Candy?"

"One hundred per cent," grumbled another guy sitting across from Tucker's colleagues. "Surely he didn't like the fact that someone put his fingers on his new object of desire."

He looked intently in Erik's direction. Tucker also looked at him.

"Shit," his buddy stuttered. "What if I get caught next?"

Erik couldn't rule it out. But not really confirm either. Because there was definitely no Shawn Candy behind the murder. Only Charles and he.

Clever from Charles to make it look like a murder by Candy. However, he was not really comfortable with it. The dismemberment really wasn’t necessary.

"You're just my cellmate, Tucker," Erik said calmly. "I don't think he'll kill you just because you share a room with me."

"Oh man," whispered the colleague. “Better watch out that he doesn't take you to block C. As soon as you put your foot in there you're dead.”

"Oh, that doesn’t mean shit," the other guy said again. “Candy has eyes and ears everywhere. It doesn't matter whether you sit here or over there.”

The discussion about where it would be worst for Erik then continued for a few minutes. He just wanted to talk to Charles himself. Ask him what he was thinking. And paradoxically thank him again.

But before he could go to the direction of block C in his free time in the morning - even if the guards would not have let him in - he was stopped in the hall by a woman in all white. She was not a doctor - her costume was more like a gala dinner one. She was accompanied by two armed police officers.

 _That’s it_ , Erik thought and stopped terrified.

"Mr. Lehnsherr," said the pretty blonde, clasping her hands in front of her lap. "May I ask you to follow me?"

Erik nodded silently and was escorted by the two guards. He didn't dare to ask why he was taken away. After all, it was obvious why.

He was led back into the administration. There he was left in front of the prison director's office. _Sebastian Shaw_ read Erik on the small sign next to the door. Suddenly he felt like he was back in school, where he was often detained because he had beaten up someone. But this time it was about murder.

"You can come in now," announced the blonde, holding the door open for Erik. The two guards followed every step of the way.

"Mr. Lehnsherr,” greeted a middle-aged man wearing glasses. "So nice of you that you have time for me."

Unnecessary courtesy. As if he had another choice. But the illusion sustained as if the inmates were normal people. With rights. Even if everyone here was just shitting on them.

"I'm Sebastian Shaw, I'm running this facility if you didn't know that," the man said, holding out his hand to Erik. Only now did he realize that he hadn't been handcuffed. So, wasn't he a threat?

After a moment's hesitation, Erik shook Mr. Shaw's hand but said nothing.

"I'm sure you're wondering why you're here," the director of the prison said, went to his large leather chair that was behind an equally large desk and sat down. With a wave of his hand, Erik was asked to sit down too. He usually preferred to stand, but if two machine guns were aimed at him, he would also like to sit down occasionally.

“As you may have noticed, we had to make losses again. Really sad,” said Mr. Shaw in a mock dramatic voice. “Three bodies were found in the dumpsters behind the kitchen at dawn today. They were hugely disfigured, but we could figure out who they were.”

Mr. Shaw rummaged through several files on his desk. Erik could not decipher anything, but neither did he dare to look at the papers more conspicuously.

“Among them was Antonio Perez. He was something like," the man gestured with his hand and pushed his glasses down his nose, "a leader? Let's say he had gathered a few inmates who have served him faithfully. Two of these men were in the same container.”

Mr. Shaw's carelessness made Erik angry. He didn't make a face, but inside he felt the urge to tell this guy off.

"We have heard that you, Mr. Lehnsherr, were the last to be seen with Mr. Perez," said Mr. Shaw, smiling suddenly smugly. "We just wanted to ask you what exactly happened last night and where you were afterwards."

Erik kept a neutral expression. Either the leader knew exactly that Erik was to blame for Antonio's death and played with him. Or he really didn't know anything. Too bad that Erik had no way to communicate with Charles. What if he had already interrogated him? And their stories didn't match?

“You are suspected, Mr. Lehnsherr, but as you can see, you are not yet in a solitary cell. I just want to ask you what happened and where you were at the time of the crime. I know my prison and I know that people like to meet for a chat in between. That doesn’t mean anyone has to be killed yet. „

Erik's stomach ached from the way he put the word _chat_. It sounded like 'I know that you all fuck each other wildly, but I don't care'.

Erik meanwhile opted for the middle ground: half a lie, half-truth.

"I was going to meet Antonio," Erik said calmly, looking deeply into Mr. Shaw's eyes. Such intense eye contact made many people look away. It exuded dominance. But the director probably knew these games and stared back just as intensely. "We went to the shower."

"You knew that showering was actually forbidden at such a time?" Mr. Shaw asked, raising both eyebrows. So high that they almost reached his hairline. The little glasses slid down further.

"Yes," Erik admitted, putting his somewhat cold hands under his thighs. “Antonio wanted us to take a shower together. He said several times that he wanted me to be his whore.”

For a brief moment there was an uncomfortable silence in the room. "And you allowed that?" the leader asked, looking intense over his glasses.

"What else was there to do?" Erik shrugged, trying to sound casual. “Either I would submit or he would force me. You don't usually have many options here. „

Mr. Shaw said nothing, just nodded. “So you accepted your fate. And then?"

"We fucked hard in the shower," Erik said as directly as he could. Intimacy also deterred many people. But again, he had forgotten who he was talking to. Mr. Shaw didn't make a face, just kept staring at Erik.

Before Erik could get caught up in strange formulations, a small change in the air became noticeable. With a smooth wave of his hand, Mr. Shaw removed his glasses from his nose and put them on the documents. "You know that such activities are strictly prohibited?"

"Yes," Erik nodded, and felt Mr. Shaw's eyes go over his chest. Then to his stomach. And eventually, to his crotch, where his eyes stuck.

"And yet you had intercourse with Mr. Perez," he said, finally getting up. His glasses stayed on the desk. He crossed his arms behind his back and looked down. "You say you accepted your fate, but maybe you changed your mind in the shower?"

"I was alone, Mr. Shaw," Erik said, looking up at the director. “Antonio was there with his two bodyguards. How - in your opinion - should I have managed three men? „

Mr. Shaw smiled. "I can't tell you that either." He sat next to Erik on his desk. "That's why I think you had help."

An icy cold spread through the room, while Erik's interior literally burned. "I see," muttered Erik, bowing his head.

Mr. Shaw's foot suddenly stroked Erik's shin. Slowly and probably not visible to the other people in the room. The gesture was certainly not accidental. The tender touch continued for a few seconds. Erik tried to pretend he didn't notice.

“You're not very good at defending yourself, are you? Neither verbal nor physical,” Mr. Shaw concluded in a calm voice, smiling smugly at Erik. He gave Erik a few seconds to find an answer. However, when nothing happened, Mr. Shaw sighed and left Erik's proximity. He went around his desk again, took his glasses and put them back on as he dropped onto his leather armchair. He dug out a few pieces of paper and wrote something in illegible handwriting. “Your room neighbour said this morning that you were back in your cell after about 25 minutes. With a pale face and tears in your eyes.”

Erik pressed his lips together. The tears had been an outright lie, but Tucker had probably only tried to portray the situation accordingly.

"Killing three people, dismembering them and throwing them into a container in 20 minutes is very sporty," said Mr. Shaw, and finally leaned back in his chair. “Your cellmate said he stayed with you then. All night. A guard can indeed confirm this.”

"You," Erik began softly, raising his eyebrows, "are you giving me my own alibi?"

"I wanted to see what kind of a person you are." Then he sighed again, as if he had been extremely disappointed, and indicated to his blonde secretary that she could take Erik out of his sight. “You're not a cold-blooded killer, anyway. On the contrary, you even seem a bit stupid to me. I don't mean it badly, take it as a compliment.”

Unfortunately, that was very difficult for Erik.

“If you hear or see anything else about the case, I want you to let me know. I also want you to report back to me if you can think of anything else that could help the investigation.”

When Erik got up and was led to the door by two armed men, Mr. Shaw continued speaking after him: “And if you are interested in a small job, you can come to my office at any time. We'll discuss everything.”

Erik wasn't sure if it was an offer for a _job_ or an offer for a _blowjob_.

Back in the cell, Erik just stared out of the window. He had to talk to Charles. The whole thing hadn't been set up for murder. Erik felt badly to be involved in three murders, even if it would have been self-defence if in doubt. In any case, dismembering the corpses was no longer self-defence.

When Tucker came back from work and both went to dinner, Erik thanked him for testifying to Shaw.

"Sure," his cellmate nodded as they were on their way to the canteen. "You're nice. I like you. And I saw how pale you came back. I'm so sorry. I know you had little choice. Most of the time nobody has it here.”

Erik just nodded.

“Maybe it's not bad that he's dead. Nobody liked him anyway.”

"Someone else will surely climb his empty throne after that," Erik muttered when they saw the crowds in the canteen.

"Maybe," Tucker said just as quietly, looking around furtively. "Hopefully not Candy."

"Why isn't the director doing anything?" Erik asked as they queued up to eat. “He knew pretty well about all of the things that are going on here. Surely he'll know about Candy too.”

“Certainly. But he's ... well ... he doesn't really care. He certainly only interrogated us because the police wanted him to do that.”

Erik stared at his spaghetti Bolognese unhappily.

"You seem to have a very strong sense of justice," Tucker whispered in his ear. A little too close and a little too wet, but Erik didn't flinch. “But I tell you: Mr. Shaw is not an easy man to deal with. He'll make your life a living hell if you resist him. So just accept it.”

“What’s he supposed to do? Put me in block C?” Erik smiled. It was as if he was just waiting to end up in block C. Maybe it was even a good idea. At least over there the bad guys seem to be partying regularly. And Erik wanted to play along.

"That or rat on you as a spy to everyone," whispered Tucker, sitting moodily on the bench across from Erik. “You don't have to be one. He just tells everyone. Then they'll lynch you all by themselves.”

Erik played with his plastic fork. "Spy? Do they really exist?”

Tucker shrugged. He stared at his food for a few moments. Finally, he looked up again and acted more loosely than he seemed to be. "Sure. Half a year or so ago we even had a cop here. Undercover."

Erik's eyes widened. "For real?"

“Yes, they actually only caught him because his statements contradicted each other at some point. Didn't get along with that. Something has happened. He went to Mr. Shaw and then it was over.”

"What happened to him?"

“Dead, I think. But maybe they got him out.”

Tucker started eating as if he didn't want to talk about it anymore. But Erik couldn't let go of the topic so quickly.

“Then how do you know he was a real undercover cop? Maybe Mr. Shaw just made it up again.”

His cellmate sighed with the spaghetti between his teeth. He spoke with his mouth full. “Nobody knew that exactly, but apparently the mafia is supposed to have their fingers in the game here. Money laundering and such. Someone also claims that drugs are made here. That's why there are so many around. So it would make sense that you send someone to look behind the scenes.“

Erik frowned. “Money laundering and drugs? It doesn't sound very easy to get involved into that as an inmate. Did he have relationships?”

“Jesus, Erik, I don't know. The cop was probably supposed get involved with the mafia and then do some crooked business with them to collect enough evidence. Just went wrong. But I can't tell you much more.”

"I see," Erik finally nodded and looked at his food again. He let the information melt on his tongue for a while before eating too.

After dinner, Erik struggled to take a shower. As soon as he thought about entering the shower again, the pictures from the previous evening came back. How three men lay dead in the corner. Perhaps it would have been better if he had given the whole thing some more time. But he wanted to speak to Charles. Talk to him about the crime. He hoped it would make the burden more bearable. So after quarter past eight he was driven back to the showers.

Of course, nobody stood in front of it.

Of course it smelled of mango.

Of course the water rushed from one shower. But the black bathrobe was not there. Instead, a red one hung there.

Erik barely dared to look in the shower room anyway. Charles stood naked in the first shower. His whole back was blue and purple. His right leg was bandaged and covered with a plastic bag.

"Hey," Erik said cautiously, stopping at the locker room still fully dressed. Charles slowly turned and smiled at him as best as he could. His lip was swollen and cracked. His eye black where the big guy’s fist hit him.

"Hey," he breathed, turning the water off. "You're late today."

"I wasn't sure if I wanted to take a shower today," Erik admitted, glancing around and finally putting his change of clothes aside. "After what happened yesterday."

"I understand," Charles murmured, padding across the wet floor to Erik. With his wet fingers he started to untie Erik's pants. “But you can help me wash my back. There is still a lot of iodine from the wounds and I want you to wash it off. See it as part of your reparation.”

Erik got undressed like a doll and went under the shower with Charles. He carefully ran the soap over Charles’ back, who flinched sometimes. There were blue and green spots everywhere. He saw cuts here and there. There were a lot of scars - old scars - underneath.

"Thank you," Erik said finally, very quietly, as he cleaned Charles's back from the iodine. "That you took care of everything."

"Mmm," growled Charles. He had closed his eyes and was obviously enjoying the touch.

“I was with Mr. Shaw today. He had asked me a few questions, but I'm probably off the hook.”

"Very good…"

Erik put the soap away and massaged the foam into Charles’ skin. "How did you manage to dismember those three men and then throw them into a container?"

Charles didn't answer at first, he just let himself be rubbed on. When Erik stopped massaging him, however, he opened his eyes and turned to face him. "I had help."

"That's what I thought."

"Then why are you asking?" Charles asked, trying to smile. His demolished face twitched in pain. A soaped hand slid carefully over Erik's slightly hairy chest.

His heart was pounding. But Erik struggled through. "Are you involved with Shawn Candy?"

Charles’ blue eyes grew wide for a brief moment. But after a few seconds he caught up again. The mood was suddenly tense. "Don't mention his name in my presence."

Erik took the answer as a no. "So you know him?"

"Everyone knows him," Charles sighed, playing with the little hairs on Erik's chest. "And yet nobody knows him."

Erik carefully ran his hands over Charles’ narrow hips. His skin was softer than he would have expected from a man. "What does this mean? You're in block C. Did you ever meet him?”

"Erik," Charles began to sigh again and patiently closed his eyes. “Things are a little different in block C compared to here. I don't want to talk about him.”

"But he's on everyone's lips and if you make a deed look like it's from him, I feel like you're also dealing with him," Erik replied, though he was sure he was playing with Charles' patience.

Indeed, his otherwise warm blue eyes grew cold as ice. "If you don't want to have anything to do with me or Candy, please take your shower again in the morning."

Erik sensed that he should have accepted the advice. But the guilty conscience of simply rejecting Charles even though he had helped him was stronger. "No, that's not what I wanted to say."

"Then just don't say anything," whispered Charles, leaning against Erik. He carefully reached for his face and pulled it down towards him. He kissed Erik's lips more sensually and gently than ever. The kiss lasted a few minutes and finally got a little more intense. But when Erik tasted blood, Charles pulled away. With a painful look, he touched his bleeding lip. "Fuck," he swore, eyes narrowing.

"Did it have to be sewn?"

Charles nodded and sighed.

"Didn't anyone wonder why you were wounded?"

"I sewed it myself," Charles said, leaning again against Erik's bare body. The warm water pattered over them both.

Erik caught his breath again. "You sewed it yourself ...?"

"Mmm," he murmured, hugging Erik's torso. For a few seconds it looked like he just wanted to cuddle, but before Erik could put his arms around Charles, he loosened up again. “If you're afraid of Candy, don't show it. And above all, don't talk about him. That just catches unnecessary attention. And most important: don't tell anyone that you'll meet me here.”

"I wasn't going to," Erik muttered, watching Charles wash the rest of the soap off.

"Good," he nodded, starting to throw himself in his red bathrobe. The wine red looked good on him. "Then see you tomorrow."

With that he left. And Erik wasn't sure whether the relationship had tightened or loosened.

Erik concluded that Charles probably knew Candy better than anyone, but didn't want to talk about it. Did the mafia have anything to do with Candy? So the rat tail would become longer?

Maybe it was time to find out more about block C.


	7. Psychology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter:  
> \- sexual content  
> \- mentioning of impaling someone  
> \- mentioning of murder

Finding out more about block C turned out to be extremely difficult. No matter who he asked, he was fob off with wild rumours or lies. He couldn't ask Charles. He wouldn't tell him anything, Erik guessed.

The days were suddenly quieter and therefore less fast. Erik used to visit Tucker at work every now and then without really doing anything. They talked about this and that. How Tucker's life used to be, that he was happy to be able to get out sometime, although he still had to sit for almost 2 years. The fixed daily routine felt good. Calm. Especially now that nobody died. Nobody threatened him. Nobody wanted to fuck him.

Except maybe Charles, Erik guessed after a while. They continued to meet in the showers every night. The conversations became fewer, the touches more. Charles kissed him again and again, but his cracked lip continued to hurt. So they just held each other and stroked their backs. Erik was content with it. It was far too long ago that someone had given him love in the form of touching and caressing. Sad, actually, considering that Erik had to go to jail first to feel the affection he had been missing for so many years. There was no sexual mood. Until Charles skilfully directed the subject to it.

"What was your ex-wife like?" Charles asked out of the blue, massaging Erik's hair with shampoo. They were sitting on the hard tiles, but the warm water felt good.

"Annoying," grumbled Erik, unwilling to talk about her.

"How long have you been married?"

Erik had to think for a moment. "Ten years."

"That's a long time," said Charles, sitting between Erik's legs. His penis touched Erik's stomach, but it wasn't stiff. "Why did you kill her?"

"She cheated on me," Erik said, closing his eyes so no shampoo would run into them. Charles had a pleasant way of touching him. But the subject bothered him uncomfortably.

" _That_ was the reason you killed her?"

"... asks me the one who probably committed a lot more murders for much worse reasons."

He heard Charles giggle. "Touché."

The reaction troubled Erik somewhat. How many murders were on his head?

Charles’ gentle touches moved from his head over Erik’s neck, over his shoulders, to his back, arms and chest. Finally, he felt Charles hug him tightly and press towards him. "Did you like it?"

Erik kept his eyes closed as the shampoo ran down his face. "What exactly?"

"The killing."

He had to think for a moment what to tell. Adaptation was still the motto. But no clear yes came from his lips. He hadn't enjoyed it. It was just a necessity. "Hard to say."

"Because of your illness?"

"Yes," he said shortly, running his hands over Charles’ hips to his waist. Even with his eyes closed, Erik could sense that Charles was a strong man. The skin was soft, but there were firm muscles underneath.

"I think you liked it," said Charles softly, running the tip of his nose over Erik's cheek. "Just as I think you really like this too."

With spread legs, Charles sat on Erik's lap. The previously flaccid penis was slowly becoming stiff. He felt the glans move against his stomach.

Erik could neither confirm nor deny the statement. Instead, he washed the shampoo off his face with one hand. Charles hung on him like a monkey and caressed the back of his neck with the tip of his nose.

Erik let out a sigh. “You have a way of making people very docile. I'm not actually gay.”

Charles giggled again. He leaned back a little and looked deep into Erik's eyes. “Shall I tell you a little secret? I think I've got too much of what you're missing. Empathy is my strength. And if I want to, I can easily manipulate people. Basically, that’s what I often do. It helps me survive here.”

His grin, which sat so mischievously on his pretty face, made Erik press his lips together. "So are you manipulating me too?"

“In my opinion, being in such an environment in which we are right now, you cannot really avoid manipulating each other. But I try to be as neutral as possible, when it comes to you.”

"I don't believe a word you said," Erik huffed, raising both eyebrows. The shampoo flowed along his temples again.

Charles grinned and kissed Erik intensely on the lips. He seemed to ignore the excruciating pain in the laceration. Instead, he stuck his tongue into Erik's mouth and encouraged him to participate. Again, Erik wasn't sure what to do and if what he was doing was a wise decision. Charles was influential. He had something to do with Candy. This connection was dangerous. And Erik was sure that Charles knew more than he admitted. But meeting him was still the highlight of his day and nothing has been done against his will. That strengthened kind of the trust in this relationship. Charles seemed to give Erik some freedom to choose what to do and what not to do. After a week of meeting for almost an hour each day and having already committed murder, a French kiss was definitely okay.

Erik grabbed Charles’ hips again and hugged him tightly. Their lathered bodies felt good against each other. The kiss too. Sometimes Erik could feel the threads in Charles’ mouth with his tongue, which made him flinch. But none of them separated from the other.

Eventually Erik was getting stiff from rubbing.

"Should I do something about it?" Charles breathed into his mouth, already reaching for Erik's tight member.

"You don't have to do that," he whispered back, pushing Charles slightly away. He knew that he owed something similar to Charles afterwards. And he didn't know if he was capable of doing so.

"What if I want to?" Charles’ smile widened. "You are huge. I've always wanted a big cock. You'd be surprised how small some are, even though their egos say otherwise.”

Erik sighed firmly as Charles’ grip tightened. Slow up and down movements did not make it easier to resist his offer.

"I don't know ..." And Erik didn't know what he didn't know. Not having an orgasm in over a week had been borderline for him. This tiny bit of physical closeness already seemed to knock him out.

Charles kissed him on the lips again. Hungry and willing, but Erik couldn't warm up to the idea.

"Then just by hand, okay?" Charles grumbled against his lips. "Please."

Oh, a _please_. Erik hadn't heard that in a long time. At least not a sincere one.

"Okay," was all he said before gripping Charles's dick. It wasn't as different as expected. Just a little more uncoordinated and less efficient than with yourself.

But Charles’ sighs of satisfaction caused Erik's neck hair to rise. He clung to Erik's broad shoulders and did his best to satisfy him as well. His slight riding movements on Erik's lap really made him very horny. Charles probably made it on purpose to get Erik around next time.

"Oh, Erik," Charles breathed erotically into his ear as he came into Erik's hand faster than expected. His fingernails pierced into the back of his neck.

It took Charles a moment to get together and continue to massage Erik's cock. His head was placed on Erik's shoulder. "I want you to fuck me next time, Erik ..." he whispered dazedly, seeming to have to concentrate immensely on what he was doing.

"We’ll see," Erik grumbled, reaching for Charles’ hand that was on his dick to speed things up. Together they rubbed until Erik felt his climax. He came generously in both his and Charles’s hands.

Both stayed in their hug for a few more minutes until Erik broke away. The water washed off the sperm faster than expected. "We should go back."

Charles hardly said anything else and looked at the ground, almost depressed. When Erik asked him what was going on, they were already in the hallway, so Charles just smiled and said goodbye.

For the first time Erik stopped and watched his friend walk towards cell block C. Charles just stood in front of the closed door for a few moments until it opened from the other side. A lean man, very tall with glasses, opened it and let him pass. When he saw Erik, his eyes widened for a moment, but the door closed faster than he could have reacted. Nevertheless, Erik at least knew who _Hank_ was.

The next morning felt strange. Erik had to think of Charles all day. How he lay in his arms, how he rode him theoretically and groaned his name. Considering that Erik wasn't actually gay, the event stuck positively in his head.

"Hey," Tucker said suddenly, pulling him out of his erotic thoughts. They had made themselves comfortable in the courtyard after breakfast. It was Sunday and actually too cold for Erik's taste to sit outside, but Tucker wanted to enjoy the fresh air and the day off, so Erik accompanied him. Together they sat on a bench, thickly wrapped up in winter jackets and blankets. Tucker smoked one cigarette after the other as Erik wondered if he should start smoking too. Simply because apparently everyone here did it. And the command to adjust was still deep in his bones. It would make things easier.

"Is everything okay?" Tucker asked after Erik didn't answer. “You seem really distant since the incident. I'm worried."

"That's cute," said Erik, typically monotonously, and pulled up the corner of his mouth. "I’m fine."

"I know you're more of a quiet guy, but sometimes you have to talk about what happened to you, you know?"

It was clear that Tucker was not talking about the murders, but about the alleged rape, which had never actually happened.

"Would you like me to talk to you about it?" Erik asked, knowing that his cellmate was very curious.

"No, no," Tucker dodged, flicking his cigarette away. That earned him a nasty look from a guard. “There is psychological counselling. You know? Like professional. Heard you can just go there.”

Erik thought about it for a moment. Was it frowned upon to go there? Would you be cut open right after the visit? Was there another catch? Or why did nobody go to this consultation when basically half of the inmates really needed a psychological interview?

"You can just go there?" Erik repeated bemused.

“Well, you have to register beforehand. You can do that in the infirmary. Then you get an appointment and go. That's all. Would be an idea.” Tucker lit another cigarette. “They also have to keep stuff confidential. They are not allowed to say anything to anyone. Neither the guards nor the director.”

That sounded like a big lie to Erik, because the whole prison didn't look _that_ professional, but it might be worth a try. He could possibly learn more about cell block C. The Mafiosi who were up to mischief here. Or what happened to the undercover cop.

He thanked his friend and asked for a cigarette. The first hit was terrible. It scratched and hurt. But after smoking the whole thing, he had to admit it was soothing. So on the way back he got his own package.

In the afternoon he visited the infirmary. Some men sat in front of the treatment rooms, holding cold packs in front of their swollen faces. They looked ruefully at the floor. There was probably a fight. In any case, there was no blood.

At the reception, an old woman was sitting behind solid plexiglass. "Yes?" She grumbled, looking through her glasses thick as coke bottles at Erik, who looked attentive through the room.

"Hello," he finally greeted the lady, clearing his throat. "I'd like to make an appointment for the psychologist."

The old woman frowned. "Is it urgent?"

Erik considered for a moment. "Relative. It's about a recent relationship with a man,” he said, unsure of whether he meant Antonio or Charles.

Before the old lady could browse through a busy schedule with her eyebrows raised, a young, relatively pretty lady stood next to Erik. With her arms crossed, she leaned against the plexiglass window. The white coat suggested that she was a doctor.

"That was really nicely put," she said amused, and smiled in Erik's direction. “Most of the guys say outright what it is. Rape, sex, relationship.”

Erik remained silent and looked at the woman. She might have been a little younger than him, but not much. Her red hair was coloured, but looked good on her. Her pale skin and amber eyes came out even better. She looked tough. Directly. You probably had to be in a men's prison as a woman.

When nothing further came from Erik's side, the lady giggled wordlessly and turned to the receptionist. “I have a free appointment tonight. Give him that one.”

"When tonight?" Erik promptly asked. Both women looked in surprise at him.

"Why? Do you have another important appointment?” the old receptionist blared, licking her finger before turning the calendar. The red-haired lady, who didn't seem to care much about discretion, just looked sternly in Erik's direction and waited.

“Something like that. Right after dinner. Around 8 p.m.”

“Then how about 7 o'clock in my office. Eat earlier today. Then come to me. After that you have enough time to go to your important appointment,” the doctor explained understandingly and looked at Erik with great interest. The man nodded and thanked her.

"My office is the first door on the left," she said, pointing down the hall. "Dr. Darkholme."

Erik thanked her politely again and left the infirmary. Only on the way to his cell did he notice that he had already unconsciously initiated two people into his evening shower ritual: Tucker and now the doctor. Charles would not be delighted.

And as if one had read his thoughts, Tucker had to ask today of all things. He got curious when they went to dinner an hour earlier. "Why so early today?"

"I have another appointment," grumbled Erik, looking for an empty seat in the large canteen. “The psychologist. You gave me the tip.”

Tucker raised both eyebrows. “Wow, that was quick. Good choice, Bub.”

Erik just nodded silently. Of course, when they were sitting, Tucker had to keep asking. "So you won’t take a shower after dinner today?"

It was like an inmate turned around to face them. However, when Erik looked in his direction, he was just eating comfortably. "Yes, but afterwards."

“So at the usual time? Is that why we're eating earlier today? So that you can do everything in time?”

A guard eyed both of them enormously. He was within listening radius.

"Tucker," Erik started tense, still looking around nervously. "Just take things the way they are, okay?"

That silenced his colleague. But only for a short moment. He leaned forward and whispered very conspicuously in Erik's direction. "Are you in trouble?"

"No," Erik sighed, and just kept eating. He ignored Tucker as best he could. The guard and the inmate, who were not far from them, were minding their own business. Maybe Erik was just getting too paranoid. But if all inmates thought that Candy had his ears everywhere - why not in block A too.

After eating, Erik went straight to the infirmary. Again he met men with bloody lips and swollen eyes. He wondered what block C's infirmary looked like. Probably there were more than just swellings and small cuts.

Or there was none at all. Because fuck those people on the other side of the society.

"Hello Erik," greeted Dr. Darkholme from the door that was open. She leaned casually against the door frame and waited for her patient to come closer. "Very punctual. I like that."

"Of course," he said somewhat tense, and was led into the small treatment room by her. The door was closed behind him.

"Have you ever been to a psychologist?" she asked very relaxed, indicating for Erik to take the only seat in front of the desk. The room was bare. No pictures, no decoration. Only a desk, two small base cabinets, a laptop and two chairs. Pens and other items were probably in lockable drawers under the desk. Anyway, Erik was surprised that the safety precautions in the infirmary were so low. But, as Tucker had already noted, the "little criminals" were in cell block A. In block C such conversations were certainly held while being chained to a metal table.

"No," said Erik, still looking around the empty room. "Only psychological examinations for the purpose of my job back then."

"Oh?" Dr. Darkholme raised her eyebrows when she finally sat down. “What did you do before? I haven't had time to look at your file yet.”

Erik bit his tongue. He had to remember who he was. "Train driver for local public transport."

Dr. Darkholme smiled with interest. "Is that so? Did you do any other job before?”

The atmosphere suddenly became colder. "No, why?"

The doctor opened her laptop and started opening a document. Erik could half look at her screen because the laptop was offset to both of them.

"You don't look like the typical train driver," she admitted, always smiling at him kindly. “Many retrain due to an injury. Disability, you know? That’s why I asked.”

"I've always been a train driver," Erik replied monotonously. The conversation was beginning to be strange.

Dr. Darkholme just smiled quietly for a moment until she turned to her laptop. “You have three free sessions with me. Then I have to inform the administration that you would like to take therapy. The three sessions are anonymous, I'm not noting your name, just that someone took an hour. After that I have to name you based on the cost statement. Do you understand?"

So Erik had three sessions to find out everything he wanted to know. He nodded.

“Good, Erik. I am not a friend of false courtesy; I'll tell you right away. If I ask questions that make you uncomfortable, tell me. Otherwise, I want you to answer as best you can. Meanwhile, I'm taking notes and listening to you. Roger that?"

"Understood," Erik replied, putting his hands on his lap. The bare room and the very extroverted Dr. Darkholme made it difficult to take the lead in the conversation. But what did he expect? With a psychiatrist?

“Since I couldn't read your file, Erik, tell me the most important things. Why are you here, what happened and why do you think you need therapy?”

Indeed, she was not a friend of false courtesy. And above all not blessed with a sensitive approach. Erik cleared his throat and gathered his thoughts.

“I killed my ex-wife because she cheated. Then I turned myself in. I've been here for about 10 days.”

Dr. Darkholme nodded and typed on her laptop. It looked like she seemed to be staring at the screen rather than listening to him, but Erik tried not to be put off by it.

"I had some difficulties," he began, but was interrupted by Dr. Darkholme's low giggle.

"Hasn’t everyone?" she said smugly and immediately waved her hand away. "Excuse me. Go on."

Erik bit his lip briefly. Lies had short legs, so Erik could only hope that they were at least faster than the truth. “Antonio Perez had threatened and sexually harassed me. I finally agreed to get involved with him, for fear that he would make my life a living hell.”

Then the doctor stopped writing for a moment. She looked up at Erik and blinked a few times. "I see. So that's _you_."

"You heard from me?"

“From the incident itself. And that an inmate was involved. Just before the dismembered body was found. Apparently you could never have killed and disposed of three people in such a short time. I had my doubts, but when I see you sitting here now…” Her eyes went over Erik's statue. "… Then yes. You’re unable to kill three men and dismember them in 20 minutes.”

"Thanks?" Erik said uncertainly, not quite sure if he should be happy or upset.

"Unless you had help," the doctor murmured, starting to write on her laptop again. “But you've only been here 10 days. When the event happened ... only three days? Right?"

Erik nodded. He was no longer sure of himself. The days with Charles blurred. Did he really only know him for 10 days?

“You probably won't find any close friends that would make bodies disappear for you that quick. What exactly happened in the shower?”

"He raped me," Erik lied, remembering how Antonio's penis had slipped between his ass cheeks. An uncomfortable feeling spread over his spine. "Meanwhile, his two watchdogs stood outside and took care."

Dr. Darkholme's eyes narrowed slightly. “You talk very neutrally about this rape. Are you avoiding the feelings behind it, or are you actually treating this event with relative indifference?”

Erik cleared his throat. Time for some truth. "I suffer from alexithymia."

The doctor immediately raised both eyebrows. “Well ... this is very exciting. Did you get this diagnosis from a doctor? Because you said you were never in therapy?”

"Yes. As a child already,” Erik said, looking at the clock on the barred window. They haven't talked about anything essential for far too long already.

“I can imagine that you have difficulties with other people. Your ex-wife certainly didn't have it easy.”

The statement made Erik clench his fists. It reminded him of the many failed relationships and friendships in his life. He was the hard one. Never the others. "Maybe it wasn't easy for me either."

Dr. Darkholme eyed her patient for a few seconds until she leaned back and carefully closed the laptop. "Erik," she began, seeming to think carefully about what to say. “Perhaps I should read your files first. You seem to be a very interesting case.”

Erik's gaze wandered between the laptop and Dr. Darkholmes. Did he give himself away? Did she see through him? Why did she end the session so suddenly?

“You know, I have to do some preparatory work so that the next meetings are more structured. Think about what you expect from therapy. What improvements you hope for, for example. Meanwhile, I'm considering how we can address the issue with Mr. Perez, given your history. Alexithymia is difficult to treat, you know.”

"I'm not here for you to treat my emotional blindness," Erik murmured uncertainly, feeling that maybe he shouldn't say anything more.

"But it's not about your trauma either, is it?" She leaned on her desk, crossing her arms. Her breasts protruded somewhat. Erik, however, was captivated by Dr. Darkholmes piercing look. He did not say anything.

“You suffer from emotional blindness. I believe that immediately. You don't seem to be very emotional. You were already pretty cold earlier today. A typical charisma of emotionally blind people.”

She crossed her legs. The swivel chair moved back and forth.

“You say you killed your ex-wife. Probably caught in the act. That probably made you emotionally unstable for once - maybe. I cannot yet say what level of alexithymia you have. Emotions and actions are often linked, but doesn’t have to. Your motives to murder your wife were certainly not just emotional.”

Erik had been trapped in this room for only a quarter of an hour and the doctor was already starting to take apart his entire life as if she had known him for years. She was good. That much he admitted.

“The fact that you turned yourself in was probably due to remorse. Or justice? At least somewhere coherent. But what I absolutely don’t buy from you is that you suffered trauma from Mr. Perez’s rape, so you need therapeutic help.”

Amazing how a person who was supposed to help knocked down any advances to help.

„I know the case; at that time I was called in to examine the bodies. You and Mr. Perez were in the showers. After 20 minutes you were out again. After a week you finally get help. Maybe you tried to solve things yourself first and now you hit an invisible wall where you can't get any further. With any other person without previous illness, I would believe that immediately. But you," and then she leaned back and looked at Erik very carefully, "you're not that kind of person."

Erik couldn't take another sharp comment. Her arrogance literally shone through the entire room. "You know me pretty well for the fact that I've only been here a few minutes."

“I deal with murderers, psychopaths and notorious liars every day. I would say I recognize such people immediately.”

What would she think of Charles? Would she immediately recognize him as a cold-blooded serial killer?

"Be honest with me and I'll be honest with you," said Dr. Darkholme and crossed her arms again. She slid deeper into her chair and looked expectant.

Erik pressed his lips together. He preferred to stick to his plans to say nothing of any importance. They played the game of silence for about a minute, in which the clock simply ticked through the room.

"Very well," concluded Dr. Darkholme and finally got up. “I'll take a closer look at your file. If you wish, we will set the session count to zero so that we have another three full sessions with each other before I need to report you to the administration. After all, it was my mistake to come to our session so unprepared.”

Erik also got up and wanted to leave the room as quickly as possible. "Thank you, I -"

"Think about it," she interrupted, opening the door. “If you're here looking for a safe haven, that's okay. There are some who do that. Help does not always have to be in the form of a conversation. Therapy can be done in many ways. Just be honest with me. Then I am with you too.”

With that she pushed him through the door.

After the rather confused therapy session, Erik immediately went to the showers. He was surprised that he was not alone. Only then did he realize that he was almost half an hour early. Without thinking about it, he sat on a bench in the locker room and waited. A few naked men stole a glance at him as they changed, but left him alone so far. Some whispered about him. Very loudly.

"Isn't that Antonio's whore?"

" _Was_ , you mean. Before he chopped him up in cold blood."

"Shit, do you think it was him?"

"Who else? He had help from Candy.”

“Do you mean ... do you think they're in bed together?"

“Certainly. He's already got him halfway. So let's go before we're dead.”

Erik smiled to himself. Even though he still had immense respect for Candy, he thanked Charles and Candy internally for their help. So he was the psycho monster with three men on his head. It was only half true, but at least now they left him alone. And maybe Erik could eventually use his connections to his advantage.

Shortly before 8, there were still two men showering. They smooched wildly and jerked each other off. Erik couldn't see it, but he could hear it.

Suddenly Hank came into the locker room. His eyes suddenly opened another millimetre. Erik sat in the corner with his legs crossed and stared back. Neither of them said anything as loud groans echoed through the room.

Finally Erik forced a hesitant smile and nodded to Hank. He swallowed hard and nodded, his eyes lowered. Eventually he went into the shower room and shouted in a loud voice that the shower would now be locked. The shower time was over.

The men immediately stopped fumbling and headed into the locker room, where they looked at Erik. He stayed calm and smiled politely. Both grabbed their towels and disappeared from the room.

When Hank returned, he looked at Erik uncertainly but said nothing.

"I didn't expect you to have such a loud voice," said Erik politely, wiggling his foot in the air.

The guard pressed his lips together. "You have to in here."

"Yeah, I can imagine. Many are sure deaf as fuck. Or at least pretend to be.”

Hank nodded again and clung to his belt, where he had handcuffs and a small gun.

"How long have you been working here?" Erik asked calmly, looking at Hank with interest. He avoided eye contact and just stared at the damp floor.

"For five years," he murmured, clearing his throat.

"Aha," Erik nodded, watching Hank look at the clock. Finally, without saying a word, he left the shower and went back to the corridor. Erik heard the heavy connecting door open and close. Then once again.

Quiet footsteps could be heard.

Charles finally came around the corner in his usual black bathrobe. He looked at Erik in astonishment.

"Hi," he said, smiling immediately. "You’re early today."

"Yes, I had a nice chat with Hank," chuckled Erik, standing up. Charles immediately took off his bathrobe and put his towel on the bench. As always, he was completely naked. Brave to just walk through the aisles like that.

"He's cute, isn't he?" Giggled Charles, smiling at Erik, whom he slowly undressed. His nimble fingers tugged on his pants and underpants at the same time.

When they were both naked, Erik grunted in agreement and immediately got a kiss on the lips. Charles’ eye was still covered in a light violet shade. The threads in his mouth were slowly dissolving. Anyway, Erik didn't feel them while kissing anymore.

The warm water pattered over their heads as they rubbed themselves with soap. A kiss here and there, but Charles didn't initiate anything sexual.

"May I ask you something?" Erik began hesitantly, stroking Charles's muscular but narrow back.

"Sure." He closed his eyes and leaned against Erik's chest.

"Why are you here?"

Charles’s eyes opened instantly. "With you in the shower or in jail in general?"

"The latter. I know why you're here with me.”

"Oh?" Charles laughed , kneading Erik's upper arms as he bit his lower lip. "You don't know that, but I gladly to let you believe that."

Before Erik could ask, he got another kiss on the lips. Then Charles sighed loudly. "I ... killed someone at work."

"At work?" Erik asked, raising his eyebrows.

"It was an accident," Charles said, suddenly looking past Erik's shoulder as if looking back in time. “I worked in a warehouse. A forklift is a dangerous device. A lot can happen there.”

Erik could imagine what had happened.

“I impaled my boss on the forklift. Drove to her and accidentally hit the gas instead of the breaks.”

Then Charles started grinning again. His blue eyes darted back to Erik as if he had returned to present day. “I didn’t regret it. After all, she was my boss. Unfortunately, my statement brought me here. Manslaughter, nevertheless a psychological report showed that it would be better to put me into treatment. Psychiatry. Closed. I declined. So came here.”

"Declined?"

“I didn't want to waste my life in a madhouse where I was drugged and talked to death. I don't think much of psychologists.”

"Oh," Erik smiled and nodded. He agreed after what had happened today in Dr. Darkholmes office. "But what a shame you ended up here because of an accident."

"Maybe it was just half an accident," Charles admitted, shrugging his shoulders. Eventually he started massaging Erik's muscles. "Why do you ask?"

"I was curious. I hardly know you. But I'd like to change that.”

Charles formed his eyes to slits. But his smile didn't go away. Instead, his massage got a little bit firmer. “People who want to get to know me are up to something. Either they want to do something bad to me - to defraud me or use the information I give them as an advantage. Or, very rarely, they want something good - but in your case I’m not quite sure what that should be. You don't look like the guy who wants to get married before he sleeps with someone.”

Erik smiled at the statement. “Why does everyone think they know me today? Maybe I want to marry you before we have sex?”

Of course, Charles hadn't paid attention to the last part of Erik's statement, only the first. "Who else thinks he knows you?"

Erik took a deep breath and put an arm around Charles’s waist. “I was with Dr. Darkholme today. A psychiatrist. Or at least a doctor.”

Charles’ smile disappeared immediately. But he said nothing.

“To be honest, I just wanted to talk to her. Not about you, but about Antonio. Tucker had also told me a few things. Mafia, undercover cops. I didn't want to tell her about it, but maybe she could have given me a tip.”

It was as if Erik was holding a lifeless doll in his arms. Charles suddenly seemed extremely distant.

“Instead, she didn't believe a word of my life story and said I was wrong in her office. She offered to continue the therapy in order to use her as a safe haven. Or to be honest with her. Anyway, she basically told me that my life was a lie. Which I didn't think was very nice.”

Charles said nothing for a while until his eyes slid back up to Erik’s. "You didn't tell her about us?"

"No, as promised," said Erik. And it was true.

"Good. But don't go to her anymore. I doubt she'll tell you anything. You can hardly trust anyone who works here,” Charles suddenly said, with a serious face. But he stayed in Erik's arms, which was probably a good sign. “She won't help you. She was also used for Antonio's report. So you better keep your distance. Otherwise she can become suspicious. Especially if she smells that you actually want information from _her_.”

Erik's ears suddenly rang. "How do you know all that? With the report and everything?”

"I have my connections," he said as vaguely as possible.

"Of course …"

"If you want information, ask me," Charles purred, putting his arms around Erik's neck. "I'll tell you everything I know."

That had been an outright lie. But Charles seemed to want to play a game which rules Erik had yet to learn. So he played along for the time being. "How do I know that's true?" Erik asked, gently running his fingertips across his narrow back.

Charles just smiled and kissed Erik again. Intimate and loving. "Ask me."

He got another kiss.

"Ask."

Another kiss.

And Erik knew he wasn't going to get an answer. Instead, a kiss.

Ultimately, they continued to kiss until their hands and feet wrinkled from the water. Charles would have liked to do other things, but initiated nothing. Instead, they washed themselves and said goodbye with an intense kiss. Again Erik saw Hank peeping out of the hallway into which Charles disappeared. _Like a protector_ , Erik thought, and turned to go to his cell. The guards who had initially mobbed him for exceeding the curfew were now looking at him wearily. They understood that he came back from the showers almost always at the same time and did nothing else. They tolerated his decision to take a shower so late, so he tolerated their prying eyes on his ass.


	8. Washing rituals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter:  
> \- sexual content

Erik struggled with himself if he should go and see Dr. Darkholme again. If Charles’s words weren't just empty phrases, she'd take him apart again. But what else was there for him? He had to get information somehow. And she seemed the only way to do that right now. Her influence apparently extended across all blocks. He had seen her go back and forth in the morning with a small doctor's case.

"Tucker," Erik started one afternoon as they sat in the yard smoking together. “How do you get to block C? Do you really have to kill someone for that?”

His colleague almost dropped the cigarette. "Shit, bub, what are you talking about?"

"Just asking. Curious."

He shook his head. "Your curiosity will kill you at some point."

He was probably not so wrong with that.

Tucker seemed to think for a few seconds as he lit a new cigarette with the old one. “It's just rumours again. Some say you can get there if you only get caught doing drugs. I guess that's not true, because there are a lot of dealers here in block A. In addition, you would probably be put in block B first. You know? Like ... a ranking.”

Erik tried not to look annoyed while listening to Tucker's assumptions. Again only guesswork. Did anyone know anything in here at all? Erik had already noticed that many dealt with drugs. But whenever he spoke to a dealer, he was either stupid or smart enough not to give him any information. Since Erik did not want to become addicted to drugs, he had to bury this trace again.

“Your previous cellmate had volunteered to be in block B. How did he do that?"

“He's gone to Shaw. Told him how terrible he suffered under Antonio. And then made the suggestion to go over there voluntarily.”

Somehow, Erik suspected that the whole thing was not true. "Do you know what happened to him?"

“No, I don't know. Block B is somehow very quiet. You only hear stuff from block C.”

"Not even if the cell blocks eat together?" Erik asked, remembering his second day when everyone was allowed to have breakfast together under the warming presence of snipers.

“There is always too much bustle. I didn't know the guy that well either. I know you a lot better, for example,” laughed Tucker loudly, patting Erik on the shoulder. “I love you, bub. You're strange, but kind of a cool guy.”

"Thank you," Erik sighed, smoking his second cigarette. He was running in circles. For two weeks now.

Shortly before dinner, he went back to the infirmary. The old lady was sitting behind the plexiglass window again.

"Hello," he greeted her as politely as he could to get her attention. “I would like to make an appointment with Dr. Darkholme again.”

"Mmm," she grumbled disinterestedly, flipping through her diary. She licked off her wrinkled finger every time. "The day after tomorrow, 1 p.m."

Since she already entered the appointment in an empty column, Erik assumed that he had to accept the appointment as it came. "Thanks," he muttered and left.

As always, the shower was a blessing after a rather annoying and, above all, unsuccessful day. Charles’ nimble fingers had quickly undressed Erik and dragged him under the water jet. Hot kisses followed. The bruises and the black eye became weaker and weaker.

"Erik," Charles whispered when they were back in a row of kisses, "let's fuck ..."

Erik stopped moving. Slightly uncertain, he raised his eyebrows and blinked at Charles, who was half under the water jet. "... now?"

His friend smiled broadly as if he thought the question was extremely funny. "Yes _now_."

Before Erik could say anything else, Charles’ fingers gripped his limp cock. He kissed him intensely on the lips, literally clung to him and pumped his dick. After a few seconds Erik got hard.

"You see, it feels good, doesn't it?" Charles whispered, leaning against Erik's chest. He felt Charles’ own _excitement_ pressing against his leg.

Without giving an answer, Erik brought himself to reach for Charles’ ass cheeks. They were softer than expected. Still, it was definitely not a woman's butt. Charles sighed contentedly and stretched out to reach Erik's grip. But when nothing else happened, Charles started massaging Erik's chest. "Have you had anal sex before?" He asked bluntly, looking deeply into his eyes. “It doesn't matter if you didn’t. I just have to know. Then I'll show you how to do it.”

Erik bit his lower lip. How had he got into this situation? He wanted to adapt - yes - but not like that.

"Show me how to do it," was all he got out before Charles took the lead, turning Erik like a doll to his liking.

Charles grinned broadly at him, grabbed his arms and led him back to the shower wall. He carefully pushed him down.

"Don’t worry. I won't put anything in your mouth that you don't want there,” he laughed at Erik's wide eyes at the sight of Charles’ dick, which plunged quite plump into his face. In fact, Erik was asked to just sit down. Charles reached for his good smelling soap and lathered it up a little. He knelt over Erik's lap and started rubbing his cock extensively with soap.

Erik let out a satisfied sigh.

"Woe you come," said Charles playfully, even though there was a certain warning undertone. "It can feel a lot better, believe me."

Ultimately, Erik just nodded and let Charles do his thing. He not only rubbed Erik's cock, but also himself. Especially his butt. That suddenly made Erik's nervousness so much easier. Finally he leaned forward a little and kissed Erik on the lips.

"God, finally," he groaned, leading Erik's cock to his hole. Erik himself could only watch Charles fiddling between his legs to sit on his aching dick. The glans immediately slipped into him easily due to the soap.

Both men sighed contently at the same time.

"Oh fuck yes," moaned Charles, gripping Erik's shoulders. Bit by bit, he continued to slide down. Until Erik was buried deep in him. "Feels good?"

Erik nodded and reached for Charles’ hips. "You are ... very tight."

"Because I don't let everyone in," laughed Charles, and finally sat completely on Erik. For a moment they stayed in an intimate hug. "And you're ... so big."

Charles finally broke away from Erik and looked him straight in the eye. He stroked his clean-shaven cheek and finally started to move. First slowly, then faster. He didn't even lose eye contact.

"Shit," Erik murmured, and had to hold on hard to let Charles take the lead. He hadn't been particularly been blessed with a lot of patience during sex. On the contrary: he was enormously excited by the long abstinence from general physical touch.

"Faster?" Charles asked, already breathing harder. His agitated dick wobbled around as he moved.

"Faster," Erik murmured in his ear, almost unfriendly, and grabbed his cheeks again. This time he clutched them harder and hoisted him up at his will. Charles chuckled in surprise, but let it happen. Instead, he grinned contentedly and put his legs next to Erik's body.

"Then set the pace," he said breathlessly, holding onto Erik's neck. He was now fully sitting in Erik's hands.

Charles didn't have to mention that twice, so Erik pushed him up and down as best as he could. Faster and faster, until the clapping of their wet skin echoed through the entire shower room. Charles’ moans grew louder. Their eye contact broke off when Charles closed his eyes sensually and put his head back.

"Yes," he sighed. "So good, Erik!"

 _Indeed_ , Erik thought, concentrating on not coming too early. But when Charles suddenly threw himself closer to him and let both of them roll to the side, so that Erik finally lay over him and between his legs, he suddenly felt the tightness again more clearly than before. He rammed his cock hard into Charles a few more times until he finally felt his orgasm come. He quickly pulled back and came on the wet tiles. He leaned his head on Charles’ shoulder and let himself be pressed firmly against him. Both had to find their breath again.

Charles finally laughed. "We still have to work on your stamina."

"Shut up," he hummed out of breath and lay down completely on Charles, whose breath was forced out of his lungs for a moment. Neither of them said anything. Instead, he felt Charles’ hands making circular movements in his hair and on his back.

Erik also wanted to do something good for Charles, but his arms felt sore. He was glad he didn't have to use them for the rest of the day anymore. So he pulled himself together and started sliding down on Charles.

"What are you going to do?" his lover asked, watching him slide between his legs.

"Get you to come too," Erik mumbled, a bit ashamed, and opened his mouth. Charles’s eyes widened.

Hands kept Erik from putting Charles’ cock in his mouth. He looked up, startled and uncertain.

Both men remained frozen for a moment.

"Are you sure?" Charles asked meekly, trying to read in Erik's eyes whether he was serious or just taking advantage of the situation to bite his dick off.

"I'm sure," Erik nodded. “Came too early. That is probably the right punishment for it. And I’ll finally bite the bullet, right?”

With that he pushed Charles’ hands aside and went over his shaft again with one hand. The remaining soap was washed away immediately. Finally, he put the glans in his mouth.

"Oh," Charles sighed, and relaxed tremendously. His hands ran sensually into Erik's hair and ruffled it a bit. That was probably the sign that the blowjob was pleasant.

Fortunately for Erik, he didn't have to suck him for long before Charles suddenly pulled his dick out of Erik’s mouth and came in his own hand. A few drops landed on Erik's face, but the water quickly washed them away.

It took a few seconds for Charles to catch himself again. "You're good…"

"Are you saying that just to encourage me to continue training, or was I really passable?"

Charles laughed his sweet laugh and finally sat up. He hugged Erik tightly and kissed him on the mouth. “You were really good. For your first time? Absolutely great.”

Erik rolled his eyes because he knew exactly that it was more of a lie, but he let the moment go.

They kissed a few more times before rising from the hard floor. With a grin, Charles noticed how much his butt and back ached. And his knees. Actually everything. Then Erik wondered for the first time how old Charles was. But as they got dressed and Charles knotted his black bathrobe tightly, the thought was gone.

"See you tomorrow, Erik," said Charles in a sweet tone. "I hope I didn't scare you off."

Erik got another kiss on his lips. "No, you didn't." Then he thought about the sex for a moment. "It was good. I liked it."

"So can I hope we'll do it again?"

Erik nodded and tried to smile sincerely. Sometimes it was easier, sometimes less, to portray emotions. After all, he was tired and had had a really good orgasm for a long time. His body wanted to sleep now and not flirt. Erik also still wondered if it was such a good idea to strengthen the relationship with Charles. His priority should be somewhere else.

"Sleep well," Charles whispered, kissed Erik again as if he didn't want to leave him, and looked him in the eye for a while. Finally he let go of him and went back to the lock where Hank was already waiting for him. Did he watch them? Probably. Interestingly, Erik was not very itchy about it.

When he got back to the cell, Tucker smiled oddly at him. “You all right, bub? You look so ... blushed.”

A quick look in the mirror revealed that Erik's cheeks were indeed very flushed. Was it from physical exertion? Or from his pounding heart, which hadn't quite dealt with the situation yet?

"I think," he began, grinning at himself in the mirror, "I've kind of found my place here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, I totally messed up the chapters! So sorry! :-(


	9. Darkholme

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter:  
> \- sexual content

After Erik had been racking his brains all day about how and why he had allowed sexual intercourse with Charles, he was literally feverish for the shower. Tucker probably saw that he had gained somewhat new life energy.

“You settle in pretty well. I'm glad you're feeling better. Like after ... Antonio and such,” he said, pointing to the still leaderless group of Latin Americans not far from them. Erik had expected them to take revenge on him because it was still unclear who committed the murder. But nothing of the sort happened. Probably because they were all afraid of him.

"Yeah," Erik said, eating his strange-tasting pudding faster than necessary. Unfortunately, the time did not go faster just because of that. He still had to wait 45 minutes before he could take a shower.

"Did the psychologist help you?" Tucker asked, watching curiously as Erik scraped the last of the pudding out of the cardboard bowl.

As if awakened from a blurry dream, Erik looked up in surprise. "Oh, oh," he cleared his throat after a few seconds of thinking, "no, not really. I'll go back to her tomorrow anyway.”

"Oh, a _woman_ , how nice!" Tucker laughed a little too loudly, so that a few inmates turned to look at them again. Erik got the feeling that either Candy or Shaw had their ears everywhere. Maybe even both. Sometimes he wondered who he could and couldn't trust. From that point of view, it had been very naive to just follow Charles blindly. But what luck, Erik thought, that everything had gone well.

"Yes, Dr. Darkholme. She's difficult, but I'm giving he a chance.”

Tucker winked at him ambiguously. "I would too."

Erik raised his eyebrows. "That's not what I meant."

“Thought you weren't gay. And once you've met a nice lady, I assumed that she’s the reason for ya good mood.”

Then Erik had to think for a moment. Especially about Charles. About his nimble fingers. About his narrow back. The red lips that somehow looked redder than normal lips. The deep blue eyes. And about his soft ass. "I may not be as heterosexual as I thought I was."

Again Tucker laughed too loudly, so that more inmates turned. One of them was staring very clearly in their direction. Erik just stared back, but the guy didn't look away.

“Shit, bub! Who got ya around, hm?” He asked curiously and leaned over to Erik. “Is it the little blonde? They say he gets everyone after a while.”

But Erik just shrugged his shoulders. "I don’t know him."

"Huh? Who is it then?"

"Someone you don’t know," grumbled Erik, cursing himself for being so honest. He had promised Charles not to tell anyone. Then he should probably stick to it. He didn’t want to risk that Tucker will end up in a container too. Just because Erik couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"So not from our block?" Tucker wondered, but finally stopped when he saw Erik's annoyed look. “Anyway. If you are looking for a bit of variety - just let me know. I am happy to be there for you.”

However, the ambiguity of this statement made Erik flinch. With Tucker? No, that was probably a little bit too much for Erik’s liking. But Charles? He was looking forward to it.

Since he still had enough time until 8 p.m., he went smoking again with Tucker. He already had half the box empty.

"You sure, you’re not going to look for a job?" Tucker asked, pointing to the cigarettes. "It can be expensive."

"I still have enough," he murmured, staring into the distance. He remembered Shaw's offer that he had a job for him. But since Erik was still not sure whether it would be a job or a blowjob, he left the offer in mind for the time being. He also had to find out more about Shaw before throwing himself into his arms. But finding information in a pot full of rumours and speculations was really difficult. Everything went very slowly. And if he wants to do better than the last undercover cop, he should move forward with caution.

Shortly before 8 p.m., he finally stubbed out the last cigarette and made his way to the showers. Hank was already walking to the heavy door to open it. Charles smiled sweetly at him and stroked his arm lovingly as he stepped into block A's corridor. Erik waited in front of the shower entrance and watched Hank looking at him suspiciously for a while before he finally disappeared and the thick door closed.

"Hi, Erik," Charles said with a smile, and stood next to him. "Lovely to see you today."

Erik also tried to smile. "Nice to see you there too."

Charles giggled boldly. He took Erik by the hand and led him into the showers. And for the first time Erik had no nerve to let Charles undress him first. He undressed as quickly as never before and went into the shower with a semi-stiff dick.

"There's someone impatient today," said Charles, reaching for Erik's dick without warning to rub it properly. "Has someone tasted blood?"

Erik only grunted something incomprehensible and pulled Charles to kiss him. A surprised sigh escaped him when he was overpowered by Erik's attack. Together they bumped into the shower wall. They hadn't even turned on the water.

"Let's take a shower first," Charles said, almost breathlessly, and placed his soap on the shower holder. "Then you can take me."

Charles was right, but Erik only sniffed an unsatisfied breath. He wasn't sure why he was suddenly in the starting blocks like a pumped-up stallion.

For the first time, they hurried to get clean that it was less than two minutes before Charles grabbed his arms. "Ready?"

"For hours already," he growled, grabbing Charles’ hips impatiently. He sighed happily and let himself pick up without any problems. Pushed against the wall, legs around Erik's hips and arms behind his neck, he both rubbed a bit of soap at the important parts of his and Erik’s body. Erik didn't even wait until Charles had a firm hold. So he immediately rammed his cock completely into Charles’ warm interior.

"Oh, fuck, Erik!" he groaned, clutching Erik's neck. So tight that it itched a little. Without wasting time, he started moving in Charles. Standing sex was a little more complicated than lying or sitting, but the way Charles groaned indicated that he seemed to like it.

"So good!" Charles gasped, continuing to dig his nails into Erik's neck. "God, so good!"

The bare and, above all, wet skin of them slapped so loudly that Erik was sure that one could still hear it in the next passage. And Charles’ moans even in the next one after that. But Erik had to admit that it turned him on.

"Change ..." he grumbled, concentrating on not coming too early again. He pulled back cautiously and put Charles down.

"Do you want me to ride you?" He asked out of breath, landing gently on the floor without letting go of Erik.

"No," he breathed, reaching for Charles’ hips to turn him over. "Then I will come."

Charles giggled in exasperation. "Does it feel so good?"

Erik pushed his lover against the shower wall. This time with the stomach against the tiles. With his big hands he clasped the plump butt and lifted him a little towards himself. "Yes," he muttered deeply in Charles’ ear and slid back into him. That earned him a loud and enjoyable sigh.

Charles was easy to take with his back pressed against his chest. He held on to the shower control while Erik took him hard. Again and again their skin smacked, which was only overshadowed by the pounding water of the shower.

Finally Charles reached between his legs and began to stroke himself. It wasn't long before he narrowed his eyes and came generously against the shower wall while Erik was still ramming into him.

After less than a minute, he pulled back and came all over Charles’ lower back. The sperm ran with the water between his ass cheeks. Erik couldn't help but slide into him again and take the remaining sperm with him.

"Mh," Charles sighed contentedly, reaching back to scratch Erik's head. "Do you want to mark me as yours?"

Erik only snorted contentedly against Charles’ shoulder and enjoyed his fingers in his hair.

"If you stop smoking, you may come inside me completely," Charles murmured suddenly in a stricter tone. Erik pulled away a little bit from him.

When he didn't answer, Charles turned around slowly. “You started smoking. Your breath stank strongly of cigarettes today. I know many smoke. But you just started. You didn't stink of it before.”

Erik slowly pulled himself out of Charles. With a little distance from his lover, he tried to find a suitable answer.

“You don't have to stop if you don't want to. I can't force you,” he said, and began to grin mischievously. "But maybe I can lure you with better things."

Coming in Charles was a nice offer. Erik did not yet know whether it outweighed smoking. So he just nodded silently and let Charles hug him again.

"You said earlier that you'd been ready to take me for hours," he whispered in Erik's ear, kissing his cheek again and again. "Did you miss me that much?"

"It's not very convenient that we're not in the same cell block," Erik tried with a less romantic answer than Charles might have hoped.

"Be glad you're not with me," said the latter, stroking Erik's cheek one last time before reaching for his towel. “It's better for you here. And see it positively: we have a safe haven that is only for us. I look forward to taking a shower with you every day.”

Erik nodded and followed Charles to the towels. "Me too."

That earned him a sweet smile and another kiss on the lips. "Nevertheless, please don't tell anyone that we're here so that the undisturbed calm stays that way."

"Of course," Erik replied like a good dog, and returned the smile. Erik didn't know why Charles had to repeat this request every evening. Was he afraid that anticipation would make him careless?

Shortly before they said goodbye, Erik struggled if he should have told Charles about his second appointment with Dr. Darkholme. That he wanted to go to her again. But when Charles playfully slapped him on his butt and already went to the lock with a wink, he kept the information to himself. Charles would just get upset and end up trying to talk Erik out of the appointment.

He decided to tell his lover about it afterwards. Provided there was something worth telling.

The next day Erik was back at work with Tucker. He had been offered several times that he could simply join in and earn some extra money, but he enjoyed the silence. Just sitting there and watching people at work relaxed him. It also helped him to internalize certain processes.

The room where Tucker worked was diagonally across from the administration. Through the plexiglass panes, he could watch the guards move from A to B and from B to C. But he never saw Hank. He probably had a different shift. Or was stationed somewhere else, so basically only block C could have access to him. Because even if it had been dangerously close to Charles and Candy: Erik would also like to take a closer look at dear Hank. Because a guard who just let a prisoner run back and forth? Very special.

At 1 p.m. Erik was again in the aisle at Dr. Darkholmes office. The door was closed and he heard voices. About seven minutes later the door opened and a black-haired man with a goatee came out. He looked grimly at Erik and eventually walked past him with his eyebrows drawn.

"Oh, hello Erik," greeted Dr. Darkholme him a little off the track and smoothed her skirt. “As always, on time. Come in."

She held the door open for Erik and pointed to the chair on which he had last sat. She sat down at her desk and opened the laptop. When Erik looked for her eyes, she had already put on her superior smile and clasped her hands on the table top. “So you decided to restart. May I ask why?”

One tactic to bring out the truth is to tell the absolute truth. Above all, if it sounds so abstruse that you wouldn't take it seriously and the truth eventually becomes a lie.

"I admit I'm not here because of a trauma," Erik said calmly. "I wanted to see you because you are the only person who is freely accessible to me and has to do with both block A and block C."

Dr. Darkholmes eyes widened slightly and her smile disappeared. However, she didn't interrupt Erik, so he just kept going on with his _truth_.

“I've heard a lot of rumours about block C. Especially about a man whose name nobody is allowed to pronounce as if he were the Harry Potter antagonist.”

It was supposed to be a joke that would loosen up the situation, but Dr. Darkholme leaned back tensely to get more distance from Erik. Her hands moved suspiciously close to the edge of the desk. There was probably an emergency button there.

“They say this man is after me. I'm afraid Dr. Darkholme,” Erik finally lied, blinking a little more to double the moisture in his eyes. “Above all, someone around me was murdered so terribly. I don't want to end up in a container anywhere. I was just hoping…” And here Erik looked skilfully sad in his lap and hoped that she hadn't yet pressed the button. "... that you could help me."

The bare room became a little bit colder for a moment, when neither Erik nor Dr. Darkholme said something. After the silence became almost unbearable, he looked up again and looked at the doctor. She was sitting on her chair with her lips pressed together, holding the edge of the table. She opened her mouth a few times and closed it again.

“I can't tell you about cell block C either. What I hear from my patients is a secret. This is part of medical confidentiality. Everything else ... are probably the same rumours you know. „

Erik had already expected such an answer. "By rumours you probably mean the stories about the mafia and the undercover cop."

Dr. Darkholme took a deep breath. “There are rumours like that in every prison. I previously worked in another prison. The same rumours, the same people.”

"So you think there is nothing there?"

Suddenly her smile came back. But she still seemed unsure because the corners of her mouth twitched uncomfortably. “Maybe there's a mafioso somewhere in block C. Maybe he is selling his drugs somewhere. I've gotten a lot of heroin addicts in lately.”

Erik was listening. That was exactly the information he wanted to hear. So heroin. Money laundering would certainly not be far away.

“I'm assuming the rumours are half-truth, Erik. But if you are not directly involved, leave it like that.”

“Sometimes you don't really have a choice here. Mr. Perez put me in exactly this situation. I would just like to avoid something like that happening again. And when everyone around me talks so intensely about this one man who supposedly does bad things to inmates ... at least I want to know what to watch out for to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.”

Dr. Darkholme nodded weakly and looked at her laptop. "I understand that…"

"I was honest with you," Erik began, leaning forward a little, "are you honest with me now?"

Her amber eyes suddenly looked duller in the bland neon tube light of the bare room than usual when she struggled to smile again. “You seem to have a strong sense of justice, Erik. My tip for you? Let it go. You won't find justice here. Only punishment if you don't dance by the rules.”

Erik frowned. But before he could say anything, Dr. Darkholme leaned forward again and started typing something on her laptop.

“Stay out of the things you don't care about. Be good. Don't break anything," she murmured as she typed something. "Stay covered. Then I can guarantee that you will be left alone," and then she pushed the laptop a little bit in Erik's direction so that he could see the screen.

_The room is bugged_

Erik's heart suddenly pounded faster. He looked at Dr. Darkholme, who was watching him with wide eyes. Eventually he nodded and slowly leaned back in his chair. "If you say so, I take this as a valuable tip."

This room was bugged? Always? Then there were surely microphones in other rooms. He even secretly wondered if anything was wired anywhere near the showers.

Dr. Darkholme pulled her laptop back to her with a shaky smile and erased the written words. "I can help you deal with fear, but I can't take it from you," she said, looking sternly in Erik's direction.

"Okay? And what exactly does this include?”

She closed the laptop and released pent-up air from her nose. Suddenly she got up. “I saw that your neck was scratched. Do you want me to take a look? One seems to be particularly deep. There is some blood on your collar.”

Erik probably didn't quite understand her hidden statement, which is why she immediately redirected the topic. But scratches? Blood on his collar?

He nodded and wanted to get up when she indicated that he should stay seated. She opened one of the small dressers and pulled out plasters and wound healing cream. Armed with a swab, she began to drive over Erik's neck.

Indeed, it burned. "Shit," Erik said.

“Who scratched you? Or was it an accident?” She asked calmly and dabbed on happily, although Erik had to hold on to the chair so as not to jump up.

 _Charles_. "I don't know ..." Erik murmured, closing his eyes. "Must have happened at a brawl."

"You know that," she began, putting the swab down to pull Erik's collar down a bit, "sexual activity is prohibited here."

Then Erik laughed. Even if his laugh stopped immediately when Dr. Darkholme applied another swab. "It's funny that everyone tells me about this rule and I still see a lot of sex."

Dr. Darkholme didn't answer, but came to an end with disinfecting the area. Her hands were on his shoulders with some force. Finally he heard her take the tube and gently dab cream on the wounds with a cotton swab. “Another tip from me: stay away from something like that. Such relationships are often the beginning of serious problems in everyday life. Especially when there is a breakup.”

Erik had to admit again that the woman was good. She had probably dealt with patients who came in with strange scratch marks on their backs and were later found dead because a selfish ex-boyfriend couldn't handle the separation.

It was the first time that Erik was beginning to have doubts about this whole thing with Charles. He didn't look like someone who would just tolerate a no. On the other hand, he still seemed more sensible than the acquaintances he had made so far.

"I'll try, thanks," Erik finally murmured and felt a plaster sticking on his skin.

"Try to leave the patch on for at least a few more hours so the cream can soak in," she said, slowly pulling Erik's collar back up. Lastly, she put all the utensils away.

"Thank you very much," said Erik, getting up. "Do you think it makes sense if we schedule more hours?"

"It depends on you." She put her hands in the pockets of her coat. “If you think therapy would help you, then of course it would. Otherwise I would herewith release you again. We still have two probationary sessions.”

Since the room was being listened to, it probably made little sense to conduct the conversations as therapy. The good lady knew something, otherwise she would not have reacted so harshly to the truth. Keeping herself covered meant that she was either dealing with someone who was working with the mafia, or she was under Candy's wing. Or both - Erik could not rule it out yet. Of course, wanting to help was a desirable but unlikely option.

"I'd like to continue with the two sessions left," Erik said, trying to figure out how to communicate well without spoken words, without evidence like paper or recoverable Word documents.

Dr. Darkholme nodded slowly and smiled hesitantly. “But I cannot and will not be able to give you answers to your abstruse stories. I hope you are aware of that.”

"Absolutely. I think dealing with my fear would be a good start. And maybe you can help me deal with my emotional blindness as well.”

Then her eyes lit up again. Treating Erik as an interesting case seemed to captivate her. "With pleasure."

On the way out, however, she held onto his sleeve again and leaned close to him. “Don't do anything unreasonable, Erik. Stay out of these rumours. I have read your file. If you do it well, you'll be out in about three or four months. Just keep track of time and try not to make relationships that make you dependent.”

Her advice was kind. She was probably right. The soft whisper led Erik to suspect that microphones had also been installed in the corridor.

So much for discretion towards the management. Erik was sure that the microphones would go straight into Mr. Shaw's ear. That's why he knew so much about his prison. A cunning, sneaky man.

"I'll try, thanks," whispered Erik, leaning toward her so that it looked like he was kissing her. "If you want to help me, just let me know."

He smiled politely at her again and finally walked down the aisle.

On the way to his cell, he watched the corridors a little more closely. Cameras, probably without microphones. But he couldn't be sure.

Maybe Charles had an idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, I messed up the chapters!   
> But now everything should be in the right order... :-(


	10. A Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter:  
> none

"Why do you think we're in the showers?" Charles asked as he soaped Erik's hair, crouching behind him. They sat on the floor and enjoyed the warm environment of the shower.

"Because we clean ourselves?" Erik asked an uncertain counter question, stroking Charles's legs.

He leaned forward and hugged Erik sensually from behind while kissing him on the cheek. “Because there are no cameras here. It is forbidden to be observed here and on the toilets. By law. Even if Shaw likes to weasel himself out of legal matters - he doesn't stand a chance when it comes to cameras in a private place like showers or toilets.”

Erik carefully turned to him. Charles grinned broadly at him.

“And even if he had microphones installed, he wouldn't understand anything. The sound of the water drowns everything out. On top he would have to place the microphones - if he installed some - somewhere on the corners of the changing room or on the ceiling above us.”

He pointed his finger at the places mentioned. Erik followed him with his eyes.

“Up on the ceiling doesn't make sense. With the high humidity and the rising water vapor, any technology would eventually go into a tightrope. And he doesn't have enough money to replace them every few weeks or to buy high-end devices. So the changing rooms are left. However, they are far too far away. Even in absolute silence, the microphones would have to be set to such high sensitivity that as soon as someone was in the immediate vicinity of the microphone you would only hear white noise.”

Charles sat across from Erik and started massaging Erik's chest with foam.

“That's why there are always so many guards around here. They are not worried that anyone will be raped here. They're just worried that you will do other dirty business here that Shaw doesn't tolerate. Like illegal cigarette sales.” Then he laughed impishly. “You’re supposed to buy them from the machine. Shaw earns money with it. Of course he doesn’t with black market shit.”

Charles’ logic was a always waterproof. His knowledge of listening devices was also surprisingly good. Erik moved his eyes along the walls. "So that's why you don't want us to meet somewhere else?"

"Babe," he suddenly sighed very dramatically. “There is nothing that I want more than to have you in my cell. So we could finally fuck in a bed and not always on these hard tiles. Anyway, I'm afraid that soon I'll either develop an allergy to the soap or that webs will grow between my toes.”

Erik had to laugh for the first time in weeks. It was just a short, intense laugh, but it was good. Charles smiled happily at him and kissed him lovingly on the forehead.

“Why do you want to know where cameras are? Are you planning something bad?” Charles asked, climbing into Erik's lap. They caressed each other's backs.

After so many good conversations and love, Erik didn't want to lie to his new friend. He really wanted to tell him the truth. But he couldn't. What if Charles wasn't as nice as he played? Anyway, killing people didn't seem to bother him.

So Erik decided to lie for the time being. That one lie that he would use from now on: _fear_. “I don't plan anything. But I don't want to be followed at every turn. If I know where to look, I can at least behave differently than if I know nobody is watching me.”

Charles eyed him for a few moments until he slowly ran his hand back on his neck. His playfulness was slowly becoming direct. "Do not lie to me, dear. It's not nice.”

Erik raised his eyebrows. His pulse quickened. "Why do you think I'm lying?"

With his index finger, Charles suddenly teased his back. Something kind of ached, but didn't hurt. Erik was afraid he would scratch the fresh scab. But what he got out from under his fingernail was a blackish-grey mixture.

"Do you know what that is?" Charles asked hypocritically and even smiled in Erik's face.

Erik remained silent for the time being.

"Those are leftovers from a plaster," Charles said, as if he were enlightening Erik like a child. "And I don't assume that Tucker happens to have some professional medical adhesive plasters in his drawer that are exactly this colour."

Erik's eyes met Charles's. He flicked the blackish-grey substance into the sink. “I know you were back in the infirmary. Although I advised you not to see Dr. Darkholme, you did go anyway. Why?"

His hands lovingly wrapped around Erik's neck again. He squeezed lightly, massaging the muscles. It became clear that it should represent a loving strangling.

"I hadn't given up on her so quickly," Erik admitted, remembering her face as he told the truth. She seemed more cooperative than he thought.

"Don't trouble her," Charles said softly, stroking Erik's short hair. “If you want to know something, just ask me. Because, if you keep looking at anyone who might have any information, Shaw will quickly put his attention to you. And then it gets ugly.”

"Have you had any experience with that?" Erik asked, stroking Charles' soaped butt. Good thing they already had sex. Otherwise the conversation would have ended long ago. His butt was just so _soft_.

"One could say," Charles whispered suddenly sharply and narrowed his eyebrows. “I'm serious, Erik. If you go on like this, it will cost your head. And so far, I don't even understand why you take this risk at all.”

" _Why_ , you ask?" He sighed, looking past Charles. Was he just digging his own grave? Charles seemed to smell the lies like flies smell a lot of shit. "I'm curious."

Charles snorted. "Then screw that curiosity back."

"And then? Do we just continue to live like this? A bit of sex and showering every day? People die around us and you don't even know why?”

"Erik," Charles started, as if reprimanding a child, "fuck the others, okay? You are not a world enhancer. Let it be good. You will not be able to change this place. There are people like Shaw, there are people like Candy, there are people like Tucker and there are people like me. You either play the game or you don't. Sometimes it's better to float in the water and hope not to drown, ok? Don't mess with stuff like that.”

Charles sounded like Dr. Darkholme. They both wanted him to be covered. Was his well-being worth so much to them? Or did Erik start to _bother_?

"And then there are people like me," Erik said, continuing to knead Charles’s butt. "We have to exist too, don't we?"

"You are the people who are found dead in the courtyard at some point," grumbled Charles bitterly, and suddenly broke away from Erik. “I don't want to force you into anything, but take my advise: leave it. Lean back, pretend you're just here for a visit. Then people leave you alone. If you absolutely want to get involved, at least do it under my care. So I can pull you out of the shit again if it is necessary.”

The word _again_ opened something uncomfortable in Erik’s mind. But Charles was right: he needed his help when Antonio was bothering him. “And why should you do that? With actions like this you put yourself in danger. You look more like someone who puts his own wellbeing above the one of others.”

"Thanks for the psychoanalysis, Erik," Charles said suddenly impudent and got up. He stood in the shower and aggressively washed the soap off his body.

"Are you angry with me now?" Erik asked a serious question. He couldn't really judge it.

"Yes, I am," Charles said, and turned off the tap. “You are like a child who has been told 100 times that the stove top is hot and yet you keep reaching for it! At some point I won't be quick enough to pull your hand away and you'll burn yourself!”

What a nice metaphor.

“I like you, Erik. You have been for a long time ... the nicest person I have met. I don't have many friends, but I would call you my friend.” His lower lip began to tremble slightly as he looked sadly at the ground. "I don't want this friendship to break."

"And it won’t just because I eavesdrop a few things," Erik lied, knowing that this friendship could end faster than he’d see it coming. Whether through death or other circumstances - it wasn't really up to him what would happen, which is why Erik was so committed to keeping the prison in order.

Charles’ blue eyes sparkled with wetness as he tried to read some intentions in Erik. “Just promise me you won't tell anyone about me. About the things we are discussing here. About our sex. Anything that could have anything to do with the two of us.”

“Don't worry, I'm not doing that. Even if I was tortured.”

"God forbid," Charles murmured, rubbing his wet hair. "Let's hope something like this never happens."

Erik thought Charles would go now, but he stopped next to the shower and licked his lips several times. As if he was thinking. Or waiting for something. So Erik took the chance and spoke again.

"You said I should ask you if I wanted to know anything," Erik began, catching his lover's full attention again. “I want to learn more about the mafia and the undercover cop. Do you know anything about that?”

Charles’ blue eyes sparkled strictly in Erik's direction. "Why do you want to know that? What for?" Charles asked a counter question, revealing very clearly that he had at least an idea, what was going on.

"Curiosity. And I want to know how the pieces of the puzzle are connected.”

“For what reason, Erik? Are you already working as a rat for someone or what?” Charles’ eyes formed into slits. Suddenly there was an enormous distance between them. “Tell me if you're a rat, Erik. I'll find it out either way.”

"I'm not a rat, Charles," Erik sighed, and finally got up from the hard floor. He washed the shampoo out of his hair and felt the scratches on his neck ache. “I want to know who I can get involved with and who I can't. It is very tiring not to be able to trust anyone.”

Charles’s warmth came slowly back into his eyes. "You got me."

"Yeah I know."

"Is not that enough?"

Erik turned the water off and looked Charles in the eye. In any other context, it would have been enough. Erik was happy as it was. But he wasn't here to get his previously dusty love life going on again. “It's enough for now. I notice that you are hiding things from me. As if I shouldn't know about it. It lowers my confidence in you.”

His lover struggled with words for a few seconds. “There are things that don't concern you. And it's just better if you don't find out. I'm not betraying you, Erik, believe me. I have no intention of busting you or selling information to anyone. I have no intention of killing you either. Just the contrary…"

With that he came back to Erik. Almost ruefully, he wrapped his arms around Erik's waist and pressed his face against his bare torso.

“You are very important to me, babe. If I keep something from you, I do it for protection and not because I want to let you run into a trap. Believe me."

And something in Erik knew that Charles wasn't lying. Still, he didn't understand why his lover didn't trust him enough to inaugurate him. Was it about Candy? Was it about the mafia? Was is just pure care that Charles didn’t give any information?

“I just want to know ... who you are. And who I am dealing with. And whether I can really trust you.”

Charles immediately looked up at Erik. His eyelids were a little red. "You can rely on me! I murdered for you, remember? And I would do it again!”

Indeed, that made Erik a little nervous. But the message behind it reached Erik. “I hope you don't have to kill for me again. Once was enough.”

He gently stroked Charles' clean-shaven chin. For the first time he saw the small, few freckles on his nose. Charles’ eyes were still red, tense and wandering between Erik’s blue and green ones. As if this moment was a crossroad: play with open cards or nothing at all.

Eventually Charles narrowed his eyes and let his head drop forward. He pushed his eyebrows together in resignation, as if the next sentence would cause him pain.

"There are mafia businesses here," he whispered softly, reaching for Erik's forearm. “They sell drugs on a large scale. They come from Eastern Europe. Mostly heroin. I don’t know who’s organizing it.”

Erik had his fingers connected to Charles’. They held their hands almost like a secret oath. He wanted to encourage him to continue talking. Important information finally came to light.

“I know who takes them and who makes money with them, but these are the little fishes. They are none of my business as long as they are calm.”

"Can’t they just tell you where they got the drugs from?" Erik asked calmly - glad that Charles had finally managed to get the truth out - and stroked his thumb over Charles's hand.

He shook his head. "No, the salespeople would rather die and the addicts ... you can be happy if they still know their own names."

"Have you ever asked someone in block A?" Erik was actually trying to offer his help, but of course Charles smashed the suggestion before it could even be verbalized.

"I know everyone in block A, B and C, Erik," he sighed, shifting his weight to one leg. "I don't know the people inside out, but I can say with great certainty that the mafia business doesn’t come from the inmates."

Then Erik became sensitive. "You think ... the prison itself?"

“Maybe a guard. Or employees from the kitchen who can smuggle something. I don’t know. It is harder for me to reach the employees and to get information that is also valid and not just rumours.”

"You have Hank."

Charles nodded, but looked aside tensely. "Yes, but I don't want to drag him in there."

That made Erik smile a little. "Because he's such a nice guy?"

"Because I like him, Erik," Charles sighed, finally releasing Erik's hand. “Just as I like you. If I sent you to look for more information for me, it wouldn't take a week and your head would be put on a canteen tray in front of my cell.”

"And here I thought you had so much influence ..." Erik joked, but the joke backfired.

Charles’ gaze hardened in no time. “I have a far-reaching influence. If you mess with me, you usually won't survive,” he said skilfully, and went to the locker room without breaking eye contact with Erik. “As you saw with Antonio. But that wouldn't bring neither Hank nor you back to me. Revenge does not bring the dead back to life.”

Erik swallowed. Hard words. Before he could say anything, however, Charles finally turned and dried himself.

“I've been on the Mafiosi for a while. So let it go.”

Erik slowly followed his lover into the locker room. “What will you do when you find the Mafiosi? Do you want to get involved? Or end them?”

“They’re disturbing my own business here. Either they agree or I let their business blow up,” Charles said bitterly, and Erik felt like he was talking to an ice-cold businessman who’d stop at nothing.

"Your own business?" Erik asked, though he should have dropped the subject.

"This and that," Charles said basically nothing, and finally put on his bathrobe. “Enough answers for tonight, babe. I've already told you more than I was willing to.”

Erik nodded cautiously as he wrung the wetness out of his hair. "Thanks for that."

Charles was still glaring at Erik as if he weren't going to buy his thanks. Instead, he took a few steps towards him and stroked his chest. "If you keep walking around carelessly and give anyone you meet clues that you're dealing with someone like me, I'll have to shorten your leash."

He hissed the threat against Erik's lips like a dangerous viper. Suddenly the man showed who Charles really was: Mastered. Dominant. A killer when it mattered.

Erik just nodded.

The reaction seemed to have satisfied Charles, so he nodded too. "Good."

He leaned forward and kissed Erik lovingly on the lips - contrary to his words, this gesture felt warm and sincere. But before Erik could ask himself how many personalities could live in this little man; his lover said goodbye and went his own way. You could hear the heavy door opening and closing. Eventually there was silence.

Erik shuffled slowly back into his cell. On the way there he watched the walls again. Cameras were hidden everywhere. The suspicion that Shaw knew exactly who was selling drugs where, when and to whom was getting stronger with every step.

And even though Erik had found out more than expected this day, he felt he was reaching a dead-end. Both Dr. Darkholme as well as Charles were not reliable sources that would spark a lot of information. And as always, Tucker only knew rumours. Maybe it was time to go back to the lion's den. Erik wanted to leave the prison as soon as possible.

And maybe he could say a good word for Charles when Erik succeeded on his mission so that he could get out with him soon.


	11. Information

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter:  
> \- sexual assault/harassement  
> \- forceful sperm play  
> \- no explicit consent  
> \- sexual manipulation  
> \- Shaw warning

Erik didn't know if it was a wise idea to go back to Mr. Shaw. The guy stank against the wind for miles, but curiosity had seized Erik. Above all, after the rather dry discussions with Dr. Darkholme and Charles. Nobody really wanted to inaugurate him. A frontal attack was perhaps the better solution. Erik knew that he didn't make good decisions in life. But this should be fatal.

He walked down the long corridor until two guards stopped him. "And where do you want to go?"

Their machine guns were firmly in her hands. Ready to be fired.

"To Mr. Shaw, please."

"If you have an appointment with him, you’ll be picked up," one of the two guards said, taking a step towards Erik. "Go back to your cell."

But Erik didn't back off. "He said I could come over anytime."

"Sure," the other guard laughed, pushing Erik back. "Go now."

They wouldn't shoot him. But they would not shy away from violence. So Erik went back annoyed; unwilling to be beaten to defend his point of view. Just as he was standing outside and lighting a cigarette, the attractive blonde was standing next to him.

He wasn't surprised and didn't ask why she suddenly found him so quickly. Mr. Shaw had probably just glanced at his thousand monitors, which he was watching 24/7.

"Come with me," she said promptly, staring sternly at the cigarette, which was not even half gone.

Erik didn't want to strain the lady's patience, so he stubbed out the cigarette in the nearby ashtray and followed her with an annoyed smile.

As they walked back down the aisle that Erik had just come from, he was watching the cameras that hung on almost every corner. If he counted correctly, there were a total of 26 alone in the passage that led from the infirmary to the administrative wing. Probably more in the corridor between cell block A and the infirmary. And again, a good handful towards the canteen. The entire prison was full of cameras. Erik suspected, however, that some of them were just dummies. As a deterrent.

The blonde left him in the antechamber and politely knocked on Mr. Shaw's room. She disappeared into the room and left Erik alone with four armed guards. Two stood behind him at one door, two in front of him at the other door. Two more doors led to other rooms from the waiting room. Erik suspected that one of the two rooms was the blonde's office. The other room, maybe the surveillance room. How else could Shaw have reacted so quickly? Did he watch him more often? Did he know that he always took a shower in the evening? Did he know about Charles?

"Mr. Lehnsherr,” said Mr. Shaw suddenly from the doorframe to Erik. He stood there with his arms spread out as if he was about to meet an old friend again. “Nice to see you back. It took a bit, but you probably had to do a few things first, right?”

Erik didn't answer, just folded his hands in front of his lap.

"Come in!" he laughed cheerfully and waved to his office. Erik tried to smile politely and walked past the man who gave him little space between the door and his body. The blonde stopped in the office. Erik went to the chair on which he had last sat while Mr. Shaw talked to him. When Erik was sitting and Mr. Shaw eyed him closely, a security guard was sneezing. As if Shaw had woken from a dream, his grin stopped and he looked annoyed at the door.

"Go and shut the door," he said to his secretary, flapping her out with a waving hand. "And don't bother us."

Erik's neck hair rose. He was suddenly sure that he was here to give the guy a blowjob.

The door closed and there was an uncomfortable silence. Mr. Shaw was pacing up and down. Always right behind Erik.

“May I ask why you came back? Do you have any new information for me? Or something else?” he asked curiously and finally went over to the other side of the desk. His grin was almost as wide as his entire face.

Erik pressed his lips into a strict line and tried to make clear that situation is indeed serious. “Not necessarily new information. The last time you said you might have a job for me. I wanted to know exactly what you meant.”

Shaw grinned a little wider. His wrinkles grew deeper and made him look older than he already was. Certainly, he and Erik were separated by a good 15 years. "The job. I remember.” He bit his lip and went around his desk again; towards Erik. His executive chair remained vacant. It didn't seem like Shaw was going to sit down anytime soon. Instead, he stood right next to Erik, who tried to avoid eye contact. He stubbornly looked at the unused office chair.

"You know ... Erik - may I call you that?" He asked unnecessarily, since Erik didn't have to answer to give him permission. “You are a really handsome man. I know you didn't have a good start here with me. And I'm really sorry. But I think it's because you are so fine-looking.”

He was exaggerating excessively, Erik knew that. There were enough handsome men in this prison, so why should Erik have had a bad start because of that? Shaw wanted to flirt. That much was clear.

"So I want to make you an offer," he murmured, running a hand across Erik's back. "I'll take care of you and for that ... you give me some information here and there."

"Shall I work for you as a rat?" Erik asked tensely, remembering Tucker's words that the rumour was going around that Shaw would have inmates killed by exactly such job titles.

"That's a bad word," Shaw laughed, starting to massage Erik's neck. “The information I want from you is not specific. Just how it’s like in my prison. Who with whom, when and where. What deals are running. What the general ear hears. Maybe even some gossip - I love gossip.”

His hands smelled strongly of nicotine. Erik strained to keep looking ahead. On the desk he saw a large box of chocolate with Cyrillic characters. Did Shaw speak Russian? Or did it have anything to do with the supposedly widespread Eastern European drugs?

“And for that… I'll give you my protection, Erik. Of course that means you can't talk to anyone about that, you see? Your cellmate is nice, isn't he? He takes good care of you. But he can't protect you like I can. I know you're longing for security.”

Shaw's hands went over Erik's neck. His fingertips ran over the slight scratches. Erik could feel it aching a bit. Finally the smelly hands went around his neck and forward into his shirt.

“If you do well, I can give you a single room. Or better food. So you benefit enormously from my offer.”

Whatever Shaw said, he didn’t address the elephant in the room, which Erik was aware of even more so; namely what he expected to get in return: sex. Because his hands went down further and encircled Erik's pectoral muscles. He ran his index fingers over his nipples.

In some situations, it was better to let things happen. If Erik had fought back or made salty comments, Shaw would certainly not have been so generous. Erik wanted more information - he should get it. No matter what it costed. What he did with Charles, he could do with Shaw. Where was the difference?

So he let the old man play with his hands on his nipples until they hardened. A physiological reaction, nothing more. Because Erik didn't get hard. Instead, he felt Shaw's stiff penis press through his pants against his neck.

“What do you say, Erik? Help me? So that I can help you?”

Whatever it was about Erik that made everyone crave to make him his whore, it seemed to work extremely well. Antonio, Candy, Charles and now Shaw. Although it was surely an amusing idea to offer oneself to all three and wait until they would all mangle each other over Erik. He felt his head move forward and back almost automatically. A silent nod.

"Oh, how nice, Erik," Shaw whispered, stepping away and pulling his right hand back. You could hear the zipper of his pants and how he took out his cock. The warm and damp glans slid over Erik's neck. He closed his eyes and wished that he would never have come to this prison. But what should he do? Now he was there and put himself freely in this situation. Everything to get information that he didn't get after all.

Thank God Erik had to do nothing more than sit there and let Shaw play with his nipples. Behind him he heard Shaw furiously rubbing himself off. Finally he came on Erik's neck with a loud sigh. Erik narrowed his eyes and hoped that he was allowed to leave immediately. Into the shower. Just to wash off the shame and the sperm.

But Shaw spread the sperm a little bit more in his hair and shoulders with the still hard penis. "Oh, Erik, we're going to have so much fun together ..."

With the palm of his hand, he suddenly ran over Erik's wet neck and collected some sperm, which he eventually pushed generously into Erik's mouth by running his wet fingers between his lips.

At that moment Erik wanted to bite his fingers off.

Shaw sighed contentedly and finally let go of Erik. “From now on you come to me at least once a week. Maybe more often. Emma will pick you up. You don't have to work, so you have free time. If you need anything, ask me. You get it.” Then he smiled wickedly and wiped his hands and dick with a paper towel. Erik saw it in the corner of his eye. He was still frozen in the chair, staring straight ahead. The moisture of the sperm dried slowly. A feeling of tension spread across his skin.

“You don't tell anyone about our deal. If you do ... there will be consequences.”

Ah, the mandatory threat.

“In return, you get everything you want. Good, isn't it?” Shaw chuckled, tossing the paper towel away. “Now go. I'll call you as soon as I need you again. Meanwhile, Emma is your contact person.”

So Erik was free to go. It took him a few seconds to heave up on his shaky legs and leave the room. The guards watched him gloomily as the blonde, probably Emma, stood with a clipboard on the open door to the connecting door to another room. Erik had no nerve to look inside. He just wanted to leave.

Emotional blindness was not always an advantage. It helped to keep calm and to look cool in certain situations. You always kept a cool head. Emotions from other people did not burden you so much. In general, you didn't really care much about anything. But the downside was that dangerous situations were not immediately recognized. And Erik groped from one to the next.

Shaw's deal hadn't been a good idea. But his fate had already been sealed the moment he entered the office. Actually, it had been sealed when he already had the thought to visit him in his head.

Erik stormed into his cell, grabbed a towel and his change of clothes. With rapid steps he stormed into the shower. But before he could reach the entrance, he saw two dangerous guys standing in front of it. Tattooed and with gold teeth, short haircut and endless muscles. They guarded the entrance. You could hear loud groans in the corridor.

"Fuck," he murmured, sighing loudly. He quickly turned around and went down another corridor. They fucked at day in the showers? And nobody did anything? When he passed a toilet, he quickly ran in and surprised two guys who were also in the middle of doing it.

"For fuck’s sake!" he cried and turned back. His pulse quickened as the guys called after him. Almost blind with anger, he ran back to the cell and started undressing there. Furiously, he drowned his towel in water under the sink and started washing the sperm off. He scrubbed the back of his neck like crazy until the skin turned red and hurt. His hands trembled, as did his legs.

Until so far, those situations hadn’t touched him so badly - why now? Shaw was definitely a different number than Antonio. He had just been a small man with a much too big ego. But Shaw ... the man could get him into trouble.

Or help him.

But Erik wasn't sure if the price for the help wasn't too high.

In the evening he approached the shower very hesitantly. There was no one to be seen. The afternoon screwing seemed to be over.

He stopped shortly before the showers. He could already hear the water running. Erik wasn't sure if he would want to be touched again today. Would Charles understand that?

He entered the changing room uncertainly and took off his clothes. He entered the shower room with small steps.

As always, Charles was in the first shower and shampooed his hair. When Erik saw him standing there, he eyed him for a while. One could still saw single bruises. His leg was still bandaged, but the bandage seemed to be more of a support than a real wound healing. Apparently, it wasn’t a problem for it to get wet. Charles’ butt was round and well-shaped. Why was everyone aiming at Erik and not at him? Maybe because Charles was not someone to play with. Shouldn't Erik keep his hands off him, too?

"Hey," Charles breathed as he turned around and shut off the shower. Erik hadn't noticed that he was being watched himself. His eyes darted up to the blue eyes that looked at him uncertainly. "Everything okay?"

"So-so," Erik murmured, pressing his lips together.

"Where have you been today?" Charles asked out of the blue, walking towards Erik. His hands slipped around Erik's waist. They were nice and warm.

"Where I was today?" Erik repeated in surprise, frowning. The touches were a blessing and at the same time pure hell. Erik needed some love, but at the same time he didn't want to be touched.

“You were gone for almost 45 minutes this afternoon. That worried me,” Charles said, leaning against Erik's chest. His body was pleasantly heated by the shower. His hair smelled of mango. Erik was starting to think of Charles whenever he smelled that scent.

"How do you know I was gone for 45 minutes," whispered Erik, simply hanging his hands down on the sides.

It took a few moments for Charles to answer. “I have a couple of men who are keeping an eye on you. For safety."

"You let me watch?"

"Yes. Erik, for safety's sake," Charles sighed as if speaking to a child, which would not understand the facts. “I can't take care of you personally. So someone else has to do it for me.”

"I always had the feeling someone was watching me ..." he murmured. The guards, the inmates. Strange looks that always stuck to him. They were real. Not just a coincidence.

However, Charles did not want to talk about the fact that he was acting like a stalker. “Where have you been, Erik? You were in administration, after that you were gone. Please tell me you weren't with Shaw.”

Erik didn't know how to respond. Could the day really be worse? First, the prison director masturbated on the back of his neck, made a dangerous deal with him, and basically bought Erik's body. Now he also found out that he was being spied on by Charles, whom he had actually trusted. All day long. Why else would he know that the conversation lasted 45 minutes? Shit, not even Erik himself knew it took 45 minutes!

When there was no answer after several minutes and Erik was standing like a pillar of salt in the middle of the shower room, Charles suddenly pulled away from him and looked at him sternly. “You play with fire, Erik. You get yourself into something that will bring you more than trouble. And with Shaw - shit - I can't help you there! The guy is the director. You can't kill him. At least not without going to hell yourself. Put a fucking gun in his office and four machine guns will fire at you.”

"Sounds like someone has tried it before," Erik muttered, looking down at the floor. Stupid, small details that do not match the subject suddenly appeared more important than anything else. A defence mechanism. Like: Charles’s feet were a lot smaller than Erik’s, but also a lot neater.

"Don't give a shit, okay?" Charles suddenly said, forgetting the fine language he used to use when he was with Erik. “For fuck’s sake, Erik, you really have a nut loose! Why are you volunteering with Shaw, huh? What did he promise you? New clothing? Jewellery? Money? A single room?"

Erik didn't know why Charles suddenly got so angry. And why he could recite so well what Shaw had to offer. "I just had my reasons."

Charles snorted vigorously. “Is it information you need again? Seriously? You go so far for that? What for, Erik? What do you need to know if the mafia is doing business here? Why do you need to know if there was an undercover cop here or not? Its# none of your fucking concern!”

Yes, Charles was not entirely wrong. Basically, Erik didn't care. Just like everything in his life so far. And yet Erik was trading his body for information. Because he had to.

Charles’ eyes blinked several times while Erik simply said nothing. Suddenly Charles pulled the corners of his mouth down and his eyebrows together. His eyes went bewildered to the side. "Fuck," he pressed out of his teeth. Erik didn't know what had happened, but Charles had tears in his eyes.

"Are you crying?" he asked just to be sure. He no longer completely trusted his perception.

Instead of answering the question, Charles put his hands on his hips and bit the inside of his cheek. “He'll kill you, Erik. He'll kill you as soon as you get bored. That's exactly what he pulled off a lot.”

Erik knew that. But he hoped that he would be off the hook by then and that it would never happen.

“I can try to get you out of there. I may be able to give Shaw someone else to eat. Which he would rather have. So that he'll quickly forget you… or something like that,” murmured Charles to himself, turning a few times around his own axis as he continued to struggle with tears. Indeed, what Erik lacked, Charles had too much: emotions.

"Let it be, it’ll work out," Erik said, slowly taking a shower. He turned it on and became deaf from the sound of the water. But Charles’s voice was still loud and clear.

“You don't do anything! You stay well behaved and do as I tell you! Don't make it worse! Shit, I always have to pull you out of some shit!”

" _Always_?" Erik snapped annoyed as he took Charles’ soap and spread the foam in his hair.

"Yes always!"

"That was _once_ ," he denied, washing his body. It had been a long time since he had showered so efficiently and quickly. Usually Charles had done it all. Slowly. And sensual.

Suddenly Erik had an index finger on his chest that tapped him violently. “If I hadn't been there to help you, Antonio would have raped you the first day, okay? You arrived; everyone has stared at you. I saw you and I thought: shit, the guy looks awesome. Antonio will grab him. And what did he do? Exactly what I had predicted! You were tough, you did well. Still, he could have dragged you along in the middle of the hall. Tucker couldn't have done much either! You would have been dragged into a loo where you would have been pushed down and taken hard in a dark corner.”

Erik blinked between the drops of water that fell in front of his face. Charles' head got redder and redder. Erik’s on the contrary was all the cooler.

“If I hadn't intervened and given Antonio a threatening letter from Candy, you wouldn't have gotten away so easily! Instead, you make a fool of yourself and want to bite his finger off - shit, Erik! You're such an intelligent man, but there - where was your brain?”

Erik felt his heart beat faster. Charles had grown dear to him, but he was simply not entitled to preach to him. And what was that information? A threatening letter? Charles had his fingers in the game since day 1?

“If my guard hadn't intervened… Erik, they would have shot you. Do you think you can just bite people’s fingers off while someone is standing next to you with a machine gun? How naive are you?”

Erik's lid started to twitch. All the conversations, all the strange things ... Charles hadn't just had his eyes on him. But got involved massively on top of it.

“And that Tucker knows about us, I leave uncommented, right? You haven't named me yet, thanks for that. But that you tell him that your evening shower is so important to you - what do you think, what kind of impression does that leave? That's why I doubt that you didn't tell Dr. Darkholme anything about us either. Even if you promised so nicely.”

“Are you going to say I'm lying? At the point where you have been spying on me all the time? And basically lied to me as well?” Erik asked irritably. He knew it was not wise to fuel Charles in his rage. But as always, he couldn't really guess what would happen next. So he let the one emotion he ever knew run free: _anger_.

"I never lied to you!" Charles defended, yelling at Erik. “I just didn't tell you everything! If you had asked and the truth hadn't put you in danger, I would have told you!”

"How am I supposed to ask for something I don't know exists?" Erik countered in a raised voice.

"I don't care!" Charles groaned, walking quickly past Erik to the locker room. “Anyway, now I have to take care of Shaw! Do you know how hard this is ?!”

“Nobody asked you to take care of him! Murder isn't always the answer, Charles!”

“Here it is, for fuck’s sake, Erik! You are in jail! Not with your colleagues at work, not with friends and not with your family! You're in a jail where men either want to fuck or kill you, why don't you get it?”

Oh, he did get it. After the prison director himself had only sex or crooked business in his head, the message got through.

"And you? What do you want of all these things, huh?” Erik asked harshly, watching Charles throw on his bathrobe.

Suddenly his movements froze. Blue eyes stared at Erik in horror. "Are you really asking me that?" He breathed incredulously and shook his head slightly.

“You still want to fuck me, sure, but then? What if I get bored of you too? Do I end up in a garbage can? You disguise your intentions like everyone else. Only you better hide it. You look trustworthy, but the next moment you take the knife out and stab. And I just can't estimate when the switch will change and I'll have a knife in my back at some point.”

Erik knew that was not true. But he also tended to say wrong things when he was upset. He was just a human too after all.

Charles said nothing. He just stared in Erik's direction as if he couldn't believe what was being thrown at him.

"You were my absolute highlight because you gave me a stop in this bottomless world," Erik admitted, feeling his hands start to shake again. His body was more honest than his words. “But you only used me. Who knows what for. Now that your bunny is not jumping the way you want it to ... are you threatening it too? How far would you go? In the end you will also feed me to the sharks. I am not your property.”

"You ungrateful piece of shit," Charles said suddenly, spat at Erik's feet. “Rot in that jail, Erik. Rot and I'll still be able to sell your bones as a dildo for Shaw!”

Erik didn't know what to say. Instead, he watched Charles’ eyes gleam in the dim light and eyed him in disappointment. Then the first tear flowed down his cheek. Then the second. His lower lip began to tremble.

"See how you cope with this shit yourself," Charles hissed brokenly, and exited the shower with quick steps. His wet feet made marks on the tiles. Erik heard the heavy door open and close. Then there was silence. Erik's heart was still pounding in his chest.

Was that the end of a relationship?

When Erik was back in Tucker's cell, sitting at the small table while his roommate was still smoking a cigarette near the window, he couldn't help but stare at the white wall. Crying had never been his style, but he felt the pressure behind his eyes very clearly.

He told himself that it was best to end the affair with Charles. After all, Dr. Darkholme advised him not to get involved in fatal relationships.

But would Charles accept this ending?

Would Erik be able to?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Everything Shaw will do in this story will be borderline. So please look for the trigger warnings and maybe skip a chapter where Shaw is involved (he will be in the TW from now on, when he does something questionable to Erik)


	12. Not alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter:  
> \- sexual harassement / abuse  
> \- Shaw warning (mild)  
> \- forced blowjob

The feeling of sitting at breakfast and knowing that probably all ears and eyes were still on him let Erik's hunger pass. Instead, he poked around in his dry fried egg.

"Oh, bub," Tucker sighed, raising his eyebrows. “You're as down as you were a few days ago. The good mood didn't last long.”

"Why should you care," he muttered passive-aggressively, and was sure that Tucker hadn't understood him because he just kept talking.

"If you like, we can go to the training ground today," he suggested, eating up the rest of the food on his tray. “Sport always distracts well. And I could do something again, too. I think I've lost some muscle mass.” He began to inspect his arms.

Erik pushed the still full tray to his friend without being asked. Knowing that Tucker would eat it too. "Why not."

The tough guys were of course sitting on the sports field. Everyone was tattooed and had little to no hair. No matter where. He and Tucker lifted a few weights, with Erik lifting much less than everyone else. Still, it was a lot of fun, he had to admit. But one thing always stayed in his head.

 _Charles_.

Would he kill him soon? Was he angry with him at all? Maybe he was grieving and felt a dull feeling in his stomach like Erik?

"Do you need help?" a guy asked who looked a lot like Tucker. Only with less hair and more tattoos. “You didn't fix the weights properly. So if you don't want to crush your feet, you should do it.”

The guy sure meant well, but he grinned so broadly that Erik got the feeling it was meant as a flirt. Which it certainly was. In the normal outside world, he would have given it much less importance. But here?

No matter who - they either want to fuck ... or kill.

"Thank you," Erik said briefly, turning the screws on his barbell a bit further. He had to lean forward.

"Great ass," the guy said as honestly as he could. "Exercised or given by God?"

A guard with a rifle eyed them extensively. One of Charles’ men? Erik rose slowly, keeping an eye on the guard. "God given, I guess."

"Nice," the guy giggled darkly and took a few steps towards Erik. His hand grabbed generously for an ass cheek. “If you fancy a quick fuck, let me know. I am not interested in relationships. If you want, I can also take a condom. Don't wanna catch any illnesses, too man. But a bit of fucking around is always nice, right?”

With this extraordinary good grandiloquence Erik almost got stiff nipples again. But only _almost_.

"Thanks, I'll keep it in mind," he muttered, and finally nodded to the guy. A sign that he should go.

He actually let go of him and went back to his group with a big grin. All of them lifted barbells like crazy.

"Did you know him?" Tucker asked, who had watched the whole scene.

"No, some guy who wanted my ass again."

That made his friend laugh. "Bub, you could really make a career here."

"Thanks, but no thanks," Erik mocked, starting to lift his dumbbells. It ached in my arms and hurt a little. But not as much as the feeling that he couldn't take a shower tonight.

The evening came quickly, so that Erik actually just sat in the cell and stared out the window at his usual shower time. It got colder and colder. The trees had already lost their leaves.

"Aren't you going to take a shower today?" Tucker asked curiously, flipping through a gossip magazine. He had been given it by an inmate whose wife thought her husband would read something like that.

"No, not today," Erik sighed, leaning against the wall. “I think I'll move the shower time back to the afternoon. So if you want to come along, please do so.”

"Wow, was that an invitation?" his friend whistled, but Erik had to disappoint him immediately.

“Coming _along_ , Tucker. Not _coming_."

Tucker took it with humour. Erik, on the other hand, went to sleep with a heavy feeling.

It was like his hair was still smelling of mango.

The next day started as oppressively as the day before. Erik was sitting in the canteen watching the inmates. A Latino from Antonio's group appeared to have become the group's new leader. He was spoiled with drinks and food by the rest of the members, who gathered around a single table again. Even the cigarettes were lovingly put on the table for him.

But what interested Erik even more were the guards who watched him regularly. They did it as inconspicuously as possible, but Erik had a talent for observation. Some other inmates looked at him just as strangely. But who were the guys from Candy? Who from Shaw? Who from Charles?

During the day, Tucker and Erik went to exercise again. The holidays were approaching and the weather was getting worse. So before everything was in the snow, Tucker wanted to train as much as possible and even took the morning off.

The other guy was there again. He literally stared in Erik's direction and always grinned broadly when their eyes met. But Erik tried to ignore the advances. He didn't feel like having sexual adventures anymore. Especially not since he didn't know when Shaw's blonde Emma would pick him up again.

After he and Tucker had done some exercise and smoked every now and then, they went back to their cell. Erik accidentally smelled his fingers on the way there and looked disgusted at his hand, which smelled as foul as Shaw's.

"Maybe I'll stop smoking again," Erik murmured, playing with the cigarette pack in his pocket. "The fingers just smell horrible of smoke afterwards."

_Would Charles let him come inside him then?_

"But you always smell so good," Tucker laughed, rubbing Erik's hair. “You seem to have some great soap. Always smell like a whole perfume business when you came back from the shower.”

That made Erik sigh softly. He carefully stroked his longer hair back. "I guess I don't have that anymore."

“All well, don’t worry, I won’t take it from you, you can have it all on your own. I don't want to smell like a woman's ass,” Tucker laughed loudly and nudged Erik with his arm.

Once in the cell, they read in various magazines until Erik got bored and he went for a walk through the corridors again. He counted the cameras in the hall again and tried to see how many there could be in the administration. Eventually he thoughtlessly walked through the corridors until he stood in front of the locks to cell block B and C. Of course, guards stood in front of them at this time.

Hank was nowhere to be seen.

Erik stopped in front of the locks for a few seconds and stared at the heavy doors. Lastly, he went back to the cell. There was no point in crying about Charles or wondering how he was doing. Whether it had been a good idea to upset him or to make him sad. Or whether he really should have trusted him in the first place.

Tucker stood in front of the cell and chatted with another guy who probably had the cell from the opposite site. They talked about anything and everything, Erik had no nerve to stand there and listen. Instead, he went back to their cell and collected his towel and change of clothes.

The black bathrobe that suddenly hung at the door made Erik pause.

He immediately jumped back a few meters as if he had burned himself.

"Tucker!" he called from the room and nervously went out into the hall. “Where does the black bathrobe come from? Is that yours?"

Tucker, who of course didn't quite understand what was so bad about a bathrobe, first scratched his arm as if he had to think about it. “Uh, a guard came earlier and brought it over. Said it was yours and you shouldn't leave your things in the shower.”

Oh _Charles_.

"What did the guard look like?" Erik asked. His pulse slowed somewhat. Why had he hoped for a brief moment that Charles was near him in person? Of course it was impossible.

“Kind of a lean guy. With glasses."

Erik nodded. He exhaled deeply and walked slowly back to the cell. The guy from the opposite cell watched him in surprise.

The bathrobe hung on the door like a bad omen. Why had Hank brought it over? Certainly, on Charles’ instructions. But why now? As an excuse? Redemption? As a warning?

He carefully reached for the sleeve. The terry was very soft. Like Charles himself when he was in Erik's arms.

Erik closed his eyes and leaned resignedly against the bathrobe. He buried his nose in the soft fabric. It smelled enormously of Charles. Of his soap. So strong that Erik guessed Charles had drowned the bathrobe in it. It was only when he drove uncertainly over the fabric that he felt something hard and heavy in the bathrobe pocket.

When he carefully pulled it out, his breath caught. It was a big piece of blue soap. Exactly the one Charles had always used. Only this was still packaged and new. And smelled enormously of the scent that Tucker had described as a woman's ass.

"Okay, we can go," his friend announced, sticking his head into the sink niche where Erik was still standing, fascinated, holding the soap in his hand. "Oh, is that the special soap?"

Without asking, he took it from Erik's hand and smelled it.

"Woah, gross!" he laughed and put it back in Erik's palm, disgusted. “How can you like that? Well, I don't care! It definitely smells better than some other guys here.”

Erik could only nod and carefully put the soap back in the bathrobe pocket. Still a little off the track, he took the garment and threw it over his arm. For that he left his changing clothes in the cell and only took one pair of underpants with him.

The shower was full of strange idiots. Tucker was chatting to someone here and there while Erik took a last shower to get some rest. As he lathered up the soap, slowly rubbed it in his hands and felt the scent rose into his nose, he suddenly realised how much he missed Charles’ hands. The touches and the sex. God, it had been two days and he missed a murderer who had given him some love.

What did that say about Erik himself?

He dried himself in silence and swung the bathrobe around him. Some of the inmates looked at him in confusion because no one else was strutting through the halls with a bathrobe, but Erik didn't care. The soft terry was a nice change. And coupled with the scent, it made him reminisce.

On the way back to the cell, Erik wondered if he could give Charles something too. But he didn't know what and how. He didn't have the same access to Hank that Charles had. And the poor guard shouldn't be playing Postman now. Erik probably just had to mention a few times how much he liked the soap and bathrobe in front of other people. One of the spies would then pass it on to Charles.

Erik couldn't hold on to himself at night and briefly disappeared into the niche to masturbate. With his nose in his bathrobe, he thought of Charles’ nimble fingers as they would undress him to get his cock. Maybe he'd blow him. With those red lips that had said and done so much. Erik imagined reaching into damp brown hair and setting the pace. Charles’ moans would vibrate so wonderfully around his cock that he would get Erik to come again far too quickly. Because that's exactly what happened in the toilet niche: Erik went back to bed after less than a minute resigned and disappointed in himself. The orgasm hadn't felt as good as the previous ones he had. But what was left for him to do?

Erik's dirty thoughts about Charles and where he would take him everywhere in block A grew stronger and more recently. From romantic fantasies in the shower to violent hate sex in the back room of the canteen, Erik imagined every scenario.

All of this came to an end quite quickly when suddenly Emma stood in front of his nose. Erik was about to go to the reading room to borrow a new-old book, so she blocked his way.

"If you would come with me, please," she said in her dominant tone, indicating the way behind her. As always, she was accompanied by two armed guards.

Erik nodded and did as he was told. On the way there he felt his heart speed up. He was sure that this time it wouldn't end with just sticky ejaculate on his neck.

Again he had to wait in front of the office like he was waiting to perform a difficult exam. The four machine guns suddenly didn't scare him as much as what was to come behind the room. When Shaw opened the door and smiled brightly at him, Erik felt his nervousness grow stronger from second to second.

"Erik, my dear friend," Shaw said, gesturing for his assistant to close the door behind her. "I missed you."

 _I did not_ , Erik thought, biting his lip so as not to say it out loud.

"Sit down," he said suddenly, and indicated the usual chair in front of the desk. Erik did as he was asked and put his hands on his lap. Meanwhile, Shaw went to his desk and sat on the edge. Interestingly, with more distance than expected.

“How did you do? In those two days?” he asked, as if he was actually interested. Erik didn't quite know how to respond.

"Good ...?" he murmured very uncertainly, and played with a loose piece of skin at his finger. "It was only two days."

"But it seems to me that a lot seemed to have happened in these two days." Shaw moved a few inches closer. His leg brushed against Erik’s. “Your evening shower walk that you've been doing since the beginning was cancelled. How so?"

Erik tensely let air out of his nose. Were there even normal inmates and guards in this prison? Or did everyone belong to any inquisitive man interested in Erik?

"Tucker asked if we could take a shower together again."

"Is that so?" Shaw asked, playfully stroking Erik's shin. "Then did he give you the chic new bathrobe?"

Oh fuck.

Erik didn't know what to say. He didn't want to involve Tucker in this, but he couldn't tell the truth either. Above all, he didn't want to pull Hank in this either. So even if Erik played the unknowing guy, Shaw would surely want to hold Hank accountable.

Erik was 100% sure that Charles knew exactly what he was doing at all times. Was his intention to give him the bathrobe not really a nice gift, but pure calculation? That Shaw would one day ask him about it?

Had Charles calculated the situation really that well so Erik wouldn't betray him? Because what would he do if he mentioned Charles’ name now?

"No," Erik finally murmured. “It's not from Tucker. It's ... from someone else.”

"And who might that be?" Shaw asked, running his leg along Erik's legs. Finally, his shoe reached the inside of Erik's thigh.

"I don't know," Erik lied badly, trying to come up with a good excuse. “The man who brought the robe came when I wasn't in the cell. Tucker accepted it for me. But it was ... a gift.”

"Oh, the donor wants to remain anonymous," Shaw grumbled mockingly, and stroked his shiny shoes along Erik's legs. Eventually, he slipped into his crotch and exerted light, then increasing pressure. "I think you're lying to me, my dear Erik."

The pressure around his testicles eventually became so unbearable that Erik grunted uncomfortably.

“Whoever gave it to you has to keep his fingers off you. I am your financier. If you want something, tell me. Do you want an ugly bathrobe? Then ask for it!”

Erik tried to dampen the crotch pain with light pressure against Shaw's shoe, but Shaw's leg was stronger than Erik's arms. And if he jumped up and punched the guy, four armed men would storm in and kill him.

But Shaw finally took his foot away after squeezing hard for some last painful seconds. Erik exhaled agonizingly and leaned forward to hold his own crotch.

"You can fuck with others as much as you want, fine with me," Shaw said suddenly, as if nothing happened. “But nobody is allowed to give you anything, especially no gifts. The bathrobe will be thrown into the trash. I'll buy you a new one.”

 _But I don't want to wear that_ , Erik thought darkly, already considering how he could hide Charles’ bathrobe. But a guard was probably just entering his cell to dispose of the garment at this very moment. Tucker wouldn't risk his life for a bathrobe.

"I just want to clear our fronts, do you understand?" Shaw began to stroke affectionately over Erik's head, which was still leaning forward, so he can hold his still hurting nuts. “Now be good and get on your knees. Let's end this meeting with something nicer, yes?”

Erik wanted to throw up on Shaw’s expensive shoes right away. But he just moaned in pain and slowly slid onto the floor. The throbbing pain went away slowly, but the humiliation that followed made him wince again.

Shaw opened his pants and stood right in front of Erik. His limp dick was already half in his face. "Come on. I don't want to be angry with you anymore. Show me what a good boy you are. Make Daddy happy.”

Erik tried his best to get a grip on himself and opened his mouth. He carefully took the soft glans in his mouth and began to move. At least Shaw seemed to be washing regularly, because a hint of perfume rose in his nose. Tart, bitter and somehow cheap.

The blowjob was uncomfortable, especially at the end when Shaw grabbed Erik's hair and pressed him tightly. His nose was pushed into the frizzy pubic hair that poked him uncomfortably. But the worst was the orgasm. Shaw pulled out shortly before he came and ejaculated all over Erik's face. With his stiff penis, he collected a few drops and pressed himself violently back into Erik's mouth.

It tasted so disgustingly bitter. Worse than Erik had ever remembered. Worse than Charles’ sperm could ever taste.

As always, Erik didn't get a handkerchief or anything else to wipe with. Instead Shaw dried his penis and got dressed again. He sighed as if somehow disappointed.

“I want to see you regularly. Now that you don't take a shower in the evening to let a cheap lover fuck you there, you can come to me now.”

 _Shit_ , thought Erik. Not only because he had to go to Shaw more often from now on, but also because Shaw had apparently understood that the evening shower wasn't just for washing.

“You come to me at 8 o'clock. We're starting tonight.”

After that, Erik was released again. With quick steps he went down the long corridor to get into his cell. There he saw Tucker sitting at the table, his eyes wide open. "Everything okay?"

Erik closed the door behind him and blinked over the dried sperm near his eyes. "No…"

Tucker jumped up and hugged Erik again. It felt good, but wasn't as relieving as he thought. "I want to take a shower ... are you coming?"

"Yeah, sure," he said, and let go. But he looked at Erik with narrowed eyebrows. "But, uh, your bathrobe ... two guards picked it up earlier ..."

"I know," breathed Erik, reaching for his normal towel. At least he had taken the soap out beforehand. It was still wrapped in a piece of paper next to the sink. He reached for it with shaky hands. "I guess from now on it’s forbidden to gift me something."

"OK? What happened?” Tucker asked as he reached for the towel. But Erik said nothing. Instead, he walked out of the cell with quick steps and enclosed both the towel and soap as tightly as he could.

He already missed the bathrobe. The feeling of security. Especially the feeling of protection.

After dinner, Erik stood in front of the mirror for a few minutes before he had to go to Shaw. How could he avoid going to him? The easiest solution was self-harming behaviour. Then he would come to the infirmary. Maybe to Dr. Darkholme. But Erik wasn't that desperate. Rather, he had to figure out how to get information Shaw had hidden in his office. He probably had no choice but to win his trust. Pretend he's having fun.

_Prostitute yourself. With all his will._

Tucker was wondering why Erik was leaving again, but he let him go. “If you need help, bub, you say that, right? I can certainly help you.”

He couldn't, but the offer was well-intentioned.

The way to the office was like going to the scaffold. Erik's heart pumped more blood through his body than usual, although he looked very calm from the outside as usual. Whatever would happen, he had to get over it. It was important to find out who ran the mafia business. And who had been the undercover cop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: The next chapter will be the worst for sensitive people who can't cope well with sexual abuse, I guess. Well, no one should cope well with sexual abuse, but I hope you know what I mean.  
> If you're sensitive to sexual kinks (mentioned at the beginning of this story), you might also want so skip the next chapter. Shaw's gonna be rough with Erik. I will put a summary of the 13th chapter at the beginning of the 14th, so you won't miss any story relevant plot if you decide to skip it.  
> If you choose to read it, I want to clarify that this is thankfully fictional and that I don't support anything that has to do with sexual harassement or abuse. When I did some research on the topic, I came across various texts about prison sexuality and how - especially men - are treated in some prisons in this world. It's super sad and of course I'm exaggerating (for plot reasons), still it's not that far fetched. If you're interested in that topic yourself, I can recommend googling "prison sexuality" - from there you will get a lot of information! Interesting and sad at some points... but still interesting :-)  
> If you have any questions, you can ask at any time!


	13. Sex Cellar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter:  
> \- Shaw warning  
> \- sexual abuse / harassement  
> \- piss-kink  
> \- humiliation-kink  
> \- bdsm  
> \- self-harm
> 
> Please be aware that this chapter is heavy. Don't read it, if you're not feeling well or feel triggered by the warnings! You can skip it and read the summary I will give in the notes of the next chapter.

Shaw surprised Erik by already standing in the lobby. His assistant was standing next to him and seemed to be waiting for instructions. In her hand she held another stupid clipboard.

"Hello Erik. Very punctual. I like that. Very commendable,” he greeted his sex slave like a parent who raised his child with a certain rigor. “Today I'm going to show you something new. From this place we will always meet from now on. That makes it easier for us.”

Erik said nothing as always and he had made a decision for himself not to make any sound all evening, unless it could not be avoided.

All three of them went into an adjoining room, the one Erik had always thought would have been Emma's office. But far from it: it was just another passage. A few shelves and cupboards were there, otherwise there was nothing but squeaky linoleum flooring in the room. Finally, they reached two more doors. An emergency exit sign hung over one of them.

Erik tried to remember where the door could lead. Because when he was brought in, he had passed a similar door. But this went in a different direction. Before he could take a closer look at anything, Emma led him to the other room.

A basement staircase.

"After you, Erik," Shaw said playfully, pointing to the stairs that led to a dimly lit basement.

Every step felt like coming closer to his death. Shaw followed; Emma stopped at the top. She closed the door so the two men were alone.

What Erik noticed: no handcuffs. No guards. He was all alone with Shaw now. If he had wanted to murder him: then this was his chance. But before he could decide to make short work of him - simply out of revenge, out of a bad feeling, or because the man probably deserved it - he saw a huge man standing in the next room. The colossus, over 2 meters tall and at least equally as wide, was wearing a tight, black suit.

"That's Oscar," Shaw said, pointing at his bodyguard. “He'll be here all the time. For my protection, of course. He will assist us here and there, but will not otherwise participate.”

Erik sensed that he had dug his own pit. Because the room was basically just one sex cave. Whips, lashes, love swings, sex toys and harnesses hung everywhere. Erik wanted to go back to the poorly decorated office, where he could analyse the strange chocolate while being taken from behind. Or could secretly keep an eye on papers while Shaw was distracted by his bum.

He cursed himself. And Charles. Why had he given him this bathrobe? Without it, this might not have happened so soon. Or not at all.

"Please remove your clothes, Erik," Shaw began to whisper reluctantly, and sat down with a glass of champagne on a large red plush armchair that was right next to some kind of grille. Was that a dog cage?

Meanwhile, Oscar poured some champagne and put the bottle back in the carafe full of ice. Erik had to struggle again to do anything at all.

But he slowly undressed.

Meanwhile Oscar took his clothes and put them neatly on a stool with a dildo strapped on.

"Do you see that toilet over there?" Shaw asked, amused, pointing to a simple bidet that stood between several other strange-looking appliances. “I want you to clean up your lower regions. Because I'm assuming that you haven't done this before. Which is okay, I didn't tell you to do so.” Then he took a sip from his glass. "I also want to watch you do it."

With a rather bored gesture, he showed Oscar that he should lead Erik to the toilet. The whole room was something of a typical BDSM room and Erik could imagine what would happen now.

This was less about simple sex, as Erik had initially thought. This was about domination games. And that Erik should be humiliated in every possible way.

In fact, Oscar handed Erik an anal shower filled with lukewarm water. Erik accepted it rather reluctantly.

“Now crouch over it and clean yourself. I hope you know how it works,” Shaw instructed, taking a sip of his expensive champagne every now and then. Erik nodded weakly and started to sit on the cold china. So that Shaw could see his back and, above all, his butt.

"Bend over and clean yourself up, Erik," Shaw said, cautiously crossing his legs. Meanwhile, Oscar was already standing next to Erik packed with a towel, waiting.

Two men watched him push a piece of plastic into his ass and fill himself with water. Erik clung to the darkly painted wall. Anyway, the light in the whole room was dimmed, so Erik could only hope none of the men around him could see him properly. But when he heard Shaw sigh with satisfaction as Erik carefully let the water run out of his anus, all hope died.

If there was one emotion that Erik had been chasing over and over despite his condition, it was _anger_. Anger over injustices and anger over degradation.

This exceeded everything he ever had to go through. Because the moment when – of course – not only water came out of his anus, Shaw released a delighted giggle. “Wonderful Erik. You’re really doing so well. You’ll be finished in no time.”

Again, Erik speculated that he might just kill himself somewhere. Use one of the lines to strangle himself. And take both men to their deaths as well beforehand.

When the last drop of whatever has come out of his anus had ended up in the bidet, Oscar handed him the towel and rinsed for him. Thank God he didn't have to play with his faeces now.

Erik quickly dried himself and got off the bidet. Shaw was already sitting on his plush throne with a big bulge in his pants.

"Come here. On all fours,” Shaw ordered, waiting for Erik to crawl. With his head bowed, Erik tried to leave his body. Because he already knew what was coming.

"Get him out," Shaw grumbled, just holding his champagne glass and leaning back comfortably. "And suck him."

Erik tried to put all the hatred he felt in his eyes. With pointed fingers, he went to Shaw's pants and started taking out his hard cock. Disgusted, he did as he was told and started giving Shaw a blowjob.

"Good boy," he said, and continued to drink on his glass until it was empty. He put it down on a small table with a lamp and watched Erik's action for a few moments until he flicked Oscar back at him. He was given two black latex gloves.

Oh no.

Shaw finally pushed Erik away and stood up. He stayed dressed and even buttoned his top button of his pants again, so that only his penis and testicles were sticking out of the open trouser bar. Erik had to sit on the floor and wait for Shaw to come back with an anal plug. Oscar smeared a very viscous gel over the silicone and over Shaw's hand.

“Oscar, please take care of Erik first. I want to slide it in slowly. So let's go to the horse, right?”

The horse was what you’d not think a horse would be. Something you knew from physical education. Only that Erik was chained to his hands and feet. Even his neck was fixed on the thing, so there was basically nothing he could do but lie on his stomach. Ultimately, he was just leaning forward, so that his butt and above all, his own genitals floated free. Only his cuffs were fixed on the frame's feet.

Erik's cheek was pressed uncomfortably against the leather surface of the bondage horse. He could barely move. His arms hung fastened to the other legs of the trestle down to the floor.

Shaw sighed excitedly several times and finally smeared the cold gel around Erik's ass. He went generously over both ass cheeks and squeezed here and there.

"Is this your first time?" he asked casually, as if it would change the situation.

Erik didn't answer. After all, he couldn't really.

'There is no shame in admitting it. It's more of a privilege for me to introduce such a beautiful man to this wonderful world,” he said, as if he had to convince Erik how great this S&M game was.

He finally slid into Erik with two fingers. Erik gasped unpleasantly, but had to admit that it wasn't as bad as expected. Rather the burrowing movements Shaw made in him felt strange. As if he had been on the prostate exam.

“Oh, Erik, you're so tight. I would love to take you hard right away and let you scream my name, but then our game would be over so quickly. I don't want that.”

So instead of his penis, he pushed the medium-sized anal plug into Erik. He wheezed again and narrowed his eyes. It didn't feel good. There was no eroticism. No fun. It was a simple power game.

Unfortunately, Erik couldn't see much, so all he had to do was guess what would happen next. And even if Erik was only familiar with the heterosexual porn segment, he knew enough to predict that he would feel a little more pain soon.

In fact, Shaw took out a paddle or something - Erik wasn't so sure about it - and hit his bottom several times. Sometimes he hit his balls. It hurt especially badly, so Erik broke his own oath and whined. The third time his eggs were hit, he cursed loudly.

“Do you like it, Erik? Because I like it very much…” he whispered with a thick accent and slapped his already reddened buttocks with his flat hand. “I'm not going to be that tough with you today, even if you weren't a good boy. It hit me hard that you didn't ask me for a gift. That’s why you still have to be punished a bit. But we'll gradually work towards making you a wonderful sex slave. Because I think you have the absolute potential to be the perfect sub.”

Erik wanted to cry. The pain in his ass, on his ass, and around his ass eventually made him numb. Deaf to all the other terrible things Shaw did to him. Then hot wax came on his back, which Oscar nibbled off after cooling. Shaw eventually replaced the anal plug with a larger dildo that he used to fuck Erik. Eventually, Erik was so wide that Shaw tried to fist him. But that did not work so well, so he decided on another dildo.

Oscar just stood by and watched or intervened when necessary. Erik tried not to groan too much. Not out of lust, but out of pain. His penis never hardened once. But Shaw didn't seem to mind that either. Instead, he massacred his newfound sex slave as if they were making a porno. With the number of cameras in this prison, Erik would not have been surprised had Shaw installed a few here too.

After an infinitely long time, Shaw finally seemed to be at his limit and pulled dildo out of Erik to take him himself. Erik heard him open a condom pack beforehand, which was a little comforting. But the hard thrusts made him groan again and again from pain. The shackles hurt enormously and cut into his skin. His cheek was already numb from all the rubbing.

Just when Erik was expecting the end soon, Shaw groaned unpleasantly. "Oh shit," he moaned, pulling back. With a quick wave of his hand, Erik heard Shaw tear the condom off his penis and suddenly a warm liquid spread over his ass. It wasn't sperm - it was urine.

"Yes, that's good," he sighed contentedly, and continued to pee on Erik. After a few seconds, he even took a few steps around and urinated on Erik's back. The sight was so disgusting that Erik simply narrowed his eyes. When Shaw even peed on his face, Erik felt his stomach fluid slowly come up. Due to the uncomfortable position, however, nothing came higher than his chest and Erik only felt the gagging.

Shaw came closer again and dripped a little more on Erik's cheek until he finally started rubbing himself off. He came with a loud grunt on Erik's face and this time almost pushed the sperm into his nose because he couldn't get to his mouth.

He sighed contentedly a few more times and stroked both piss and sperm over Erik's hair. “You're a really wonderful specimen, Erik. I can’t wait to see what we’ll do tomorrow.”

Erik wanted to vomit at the thought alone.

Oscar had mercy and began to unfasten Erik from the box without instructions. Shaw, meanwhile, took off his gloves and wiped most of the fluids with a towel off his penis and arms. After that he got dressed and went back upstairs without saying a word.

Erik was now alone with Oscar, who had completely strapped him off. Erik fell to the floor like a dead fish and lay in a puddle of sweat, urine and sperm. He wanted to cry but couldn't. Everything felt dead.

And he was supposed to do this every day? He would die first. From shame or vomit, which did not come up during a bondage game.

"You can wash over there," Oscar said in a deep but monotonous voice, pointing to a small shower in a dark corner.

It took Erik a few moments to get up. With shaky legs, he washed himself as best he could. There was no soap, so he had to deal with just water. Suddenly he was so cold that he couldn't stop shivering. The little towel could barely dry him and his prison clothes couldn't warm him. With wet hair, aching bones and a sore butt, he moved back to his cell. Emma was still standing in front of the room when he came up the stairs. With his arms wrapped around himself, Erik silently followed her out of the room until he was back on the familiar walk to the cells.

He walked quickly into the accustomed surroundings. Some of the inmates looked at him with wide eyes. Some even seemed to feel sorry for him. A quick glance at his wrists showed him that they were so sore that some blood was leaking out. His neck and ankles had to look the same. His face had probably become that of a walking corpse, for Tucker was startled when he saw Erik come into the cell.

"Oh fuck, what happened?" his friend asked shocked, approaching Erik with open arms. He was still trembling all over and freezing as if he were standing in Siberia without a jacket.

"I got into a really bad deal," whimpered Erik as clear he could, rubbing his arms over and over again.

Tucker immediately grabbed his duvet and wrapped it around Erik. Once again he was so happy for his loving cellmate. How lucky that he had Tucker with him.

Large hands simply rubbed over Erik's body for a few minutes and tried to warm him. Lastly, Erik lay down in his bed and even got Tucker's blanket.

"What can I do?" his friend asked, still visibly upset, and stroked the two blankets.

"Nothing," breathed Erik, blinking the dampness out of his eyes. Suddenly he felt heavy. His bones and muscles ached as if he had run a marathon. Fatigue quickly caught up with him. Tucker probably stayed by his side all night and checked for him again and again, because he felt a hand stroking his hair here and there.

But maybe Erik had just imagined it. Why should Tucker stroke his hair instead of sleeping? The next morning, anyway, he was lying in his own bed, sleeping soundly.

Breakfast was the worst in a long time. Erik's butt felt like the Grand Canyon and he felt his innards would fall out of his ass at some point during the day. He didn't like that pulling, open feeling.

"These wounds," Tucker began carefully, pointing to Erik's neck and arms, "Who are they from?"

"I can't tell you," Erik murmured resignedly, wishing nothing more than to be able to tell someone.

"... Will it happen again?"

Erik just nodded silently and ate a little porridge. He had no leisure and no patience to look around and see if anyone was watching him. The strength he had spent investing on in the past few weeks was gone. Now he just wanted to go. Leave the prison. But he didn't want to give up just like that. So he tried to focus on his mission: information.

"Can't you tell anyone?" Tucker asked, seeming more nervous than Erik. "Somebody has to help you!"

"Maybe ..." he sighed, staring at the mushy gloop in his bowl. Charles said he might be able to direct Shaw to someone else. Because no matter where Erik was now, Shaw would have access to him. However, the feeling crept over him that if he’s start to behave badly, he would find a quick end in a dumpster.

No matter what he did now: Erik was trapped.

He needed more time. More time to think.

"If there's anything I can do, tell me, bub," Tucker almost begged, pushing his milk towards Erik. “Have another drink. I'll get another glass of water.”

With that he got up and went to the food counter again. It was nice how Tucker looked after him, but Erik didn't like being treated like an invalid either.

When Erik let his gaze wander around the area, he saw the guy who was usually hanging around on the training ground. He grinned broadly at him and finally ran his tongue over his lips.

Maybe that was the idea. It wouldn't be a solution, but it would give him a respite. Erik was ready to do anything after the disaster in the sex basement.

 _Everything_.

Before lunch break, he was on the training ground again, although everything hurt. The cold wind at least cooled the wounds on his neck. Erik tried as best he could to show as if was nothing. It didn’t take long for the guy to show up next to him.

"So you like it hard?" he asked without losing any unnecessary words.

"Sometimes," Erik said, not knowing whether or not he was going to fuck up again. "Yesterday was a bit too much, I have to admit."

"Yeah, I can see that," the guy agreed, and sat next to Erik on the training bench. "Who was it?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell that."

The guy's eyes widened. “Shit,” he breathed in awe, “So Candy got you in his wing after all. Respect."

Erik smiled a little. "Not really."

"No? It wasn’t Candy? Okay, wow, thank God, I thought I would end up dead somewhere tomorrow because I was talking to you, haha,” the guy laughed nervously, scratching his wide neck.

"Don't worry, I don't think that's going to happen," Erik appeased his new victim, and of course didn't know if the guy would be found dead somewhere tomorrow. But he didn't care. He needed him now to make the story appear believable.

"Are you still up for it?" Erik asked out of the blue, suddenly feeling strange in his own body.

The guy eyed Erik a few times before grinning mischievously. “Do you think you can handle me? Because I like it rough too.”

"Maybe no gagging today," Erik joked, pointing to his reddened neck, where small grazes had formed.

"I think I can manage that," the guy laughed, biting his lower lip. “Let's go to the equipment room. There are a few guys there, but they leave us alone if we do it in one of the locker rooms.”

Erik knew there were cameras in the equipment room too. But certainly not in the changing rooms. So he needed to make sure he could injured himself there.

Together they went to the nearby equipment room, where a few men cycled their laps. A guy had a clear boner in his tight cycling shorts, but nobody seemed to mind. Even the guy whose name Erik didn’t even know had a hard cock when they reached the locker room.

"Then go in, sweetheart," he said happily, pointing to the empty cabin near an elliptical machine. In fact, he saw some cameras hanging in the corners of the room, but Shaw said Erik was allowed to have sex with other men. Only gifts were taboo.

When they were in the cabin, the guy immediately started to work on Erik's pants. He bit his lip several times, watching Erik staring at him.

“Would you like to suck it first? Then it won't hurt you so much, when I fuck you,” the man suggested, waving his dick as if he were a crappy dog.

"I have a better idea," Erik suggested, and saw a piece of wood sticking out of the locker room. The whole cabin was getting old. They should have been exchanged, but good for Erik that no one had done that before. "Come here for a minute."

The guy approached curiously. He started grinning impatiently. "What?"

"It's not personal," Erik began, reaching for the back of the guy's head to force his forehead against the wall of the locker room.

He screamed and immediately held his forehead, which thankfully did not bleed. But the wood was splintered nicely, so Erik took a big chunk and took a deep breath.

It was certainly not his best idea, but he was in the infirmary. And probably wouldn't spend the night in his cell. Because he was still bleeding like a pig. He had probably hit an unfortunate spot when he hit the splinter in his stomach. But an arm or a leg wouldn't have got him far. It had to be a critical wound that even a Shaw wouldn't take lightly.

While he had several compresses pressed against his belly by a nurse while another tried to get a doctor, he pondered his actions. How far he would go to avoid having to go back to the sex cellar. Almost like back in school, when he had often thought about throwing himself down the stairs so that he didn't have to write the exam. The difference now was: he really did it.

"What happened?" he heard Dr. Darkholme’s voice from the hallway coming into the room. When she saw Erik, her eyes widened twice as big.

Even though Erik felt his condition getting worse and he might have passes out at any moment, he smiled happily at her. Probably the lack of blood contributed enormously to his amused mood.

"I'll take it," she said quickly, pointing to a nurse, "Cancel my next appointments. I'll take care of him.”

After that incident everything got a little blurry. A nurse had probably given him an anaesthetic injection.

When he awoke from the twilight sleep, he felt a tight bandage around his stomach. The wound didn't hurt yet, but it would likely do so in the next few hours. He was also on the drip. Even the anaesthetic needle was still in the back of his hand. The bed in which he lay was separated from other beds by white curtains. He heard male voices talking around him. But subdued. Quiet. As if they were far away.

After a few minutes, in which Erik kept falling asleep, someone pulled the curtain aside.

It was Dr. Darkholme.

"You're awake," she said softly, pulling the curtain shut behind her. "How are you?"

"It's okay," he murmured, as if he were drunk. "The pain relievers do well."

Indeed, they did. Even the pain in the butt was gone.

"What happened? One inmate said he wanted to have sex with you, but you hurt yourself instead?” she said, as it had been. But of course, Erik had to deny the statement and put things in a way that it looked better for him. Make the truth a lie and vice versa.

"He said that?" Erik laughed, pulling his eyebrows together. “He wanted to have sex with me. We were in a cabin and he said that he likes it hard, but when he threw me against the wall of the cabin, I resisted. Eventually there was a little brawl and I think he hit me against the wall. The wood broke.”

Dr. Darkholme looked at Erik in horror, who still had no clear pronunciation here and there.

"Just wanted to fight back ... That's where it happened. It's okay that he says I did it myself. I can understand that he doesn't want to have any problems because of that.”

"Neither of you did the right thing," complained Dr. Darkholme to her patient, but seemed to buy the story. "You shouldn't have sex with others in here," she hissed like a snake, raising both eyebrows as if to say that following her advice could have avoided just such situations.

"I know," Erik murmured, closing his eyes. He was glad that he was here. Even if the pain came back, he wouldn't go back to the sex cellar that quickly. If Shaw comes to the infirmary to pee on him or to come on his face, then be it. But everything beyond that had to be avoided under all circumstances.

"Your wound had to be sewn," said Dr. Darkholme and shoved her hands in her pockets. “You have to stay here one night because you lost a lot of blood. We have to watch you.”

"Thanks," Erik breathed, opening his eyes again.

Dr. Darkholme pressed her lips together. She blinked a few times and finally looked down. "When I said, I’d offer you a safe haven," she whispered, "I didn't mean it that way."

"I know," Erik admitted, feeling only partially bad that he was pulling both the strange guy as well as Dr. Darkholme into his problems. “But what I'm hiding from is everywhere. I need you now, Dr. Darkholme. "

She took a deep breath and blinked a few times before she just nodded and finally disappeared. Even if it hadn't been a clear yes, at least Erik knew she wasn't on Shaw's side. And that was more than enough to give Erik a peaceful, deep sleep.

In the night Erik felt again a hand caressing his head. And this time he could be sure it wasn't Tucker's hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me for writing stuff like that... my inner demon is very dark minded.


	14. Do You Have Enough?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary of the last chaper (in case you skipped it):  
> \- Erik was led by Shaw into a secret basement full of sex toys and torture furniture (like a classical BDSM cellar)  
> \- He was tortured and humiliated by Shaw, who had sex with him eventually  
> \- A guy named Oscar was watching them the whole time and assisted Shaw, but did not hurt Erik in any way  
> \- Erik wanted to avoid going back to Shaw, so he lured a guy from the gym into a locker room, where he stabbed himself with a wooden piece into the stomach; the guy didn't do anything (he served as an alibi)  
> \- Erik was sent to the infirmary, where Dr. Darkholme patched him up. He was allowed to stay a night - that gave Erik more time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter:  
> \- mentioning of a very gruesome murder  
> \- assault

The next morning a nurse woke him up with the food. It was the same as from the canteen, only this time it was brought to bed. However, the pain came back slowly so that Erik could only really eat with great effort. A nurse came in between and removed all accesses from the infusions. She also said that Erik had no internal injuries and that he would be sent back to his cell in the afternoon. However, he was prohibited to perform any strenuous movements for the next two weeks. No sport, no hot showers and above all no wild sex. She indicated Erik's injuries at his neck and joints.

Erik nodded, pretending to have some kind of control over his sex life.

Armed with medication, he was actually allowed to go back to his cell in the afternoon. He walked slightly bent forward and felt his wound with every step. Sure, it wasn't the smartest decision to ram a piece of wood into your stomach area, but he was glad he'd done it. Shaw hadn't answered since the incident. And he would surely stay away from him until the threads were pulled. In any case, he hoped so.

Tucker immediately jumped up from the chair when he saw Erik enter the door. "Bub! Are you all right? Oh shit, man, I was really worried!”

His friend was about to hug him tightly, when Erik carefully raised his hand and kept him at a distance. "Careful, I'm not quite up to it yet."

In fact, the more time passed, he felt the wound more clearly. Shortly before 8 p.m. he took a walk through the aisles. The nurse had advised him to keep moving. Of course Erik told himself that he was doing this for purely health reasons. Ultimately, he caught himself going to the showers.

But when he got there, he didn't hear a shower running. However, he also saw no guards. So he ventured into the empty shower, only to be disappointed that Charles wasn't there. No bathrobe, no towel. Not even the smell of mango touched Erik's nose.

Resigned, he went back to his cell and went to bed. The strong painkillers at least let him sleep through the night.

The next morning the canteen was filled with more people than usual. There were also more guards on the railings and on the edge. As always, Tucker immediately recognized what had happened.

"Block C is here with us," he murmured in awe, looking around uncertainly. "Something seems to have happened again."

Erik also looked around curiously. He kept running his eyes over the faces of the different men, but he saw no one he knew.

_Didn't Charles eat?_

"A body was found in C's showers," murmured a prisoner as he tossed a good amount of scrambled eggs on his plate. He had some tattoos and spoke like he was a gangster rapper. “Some muscle man. Didn't know the guy, was probably from another block.”

Of course, Tucker, the little gossip girl, had to follow up. “From another block? Then why was he killed in C?”

"I dunno, man," the guy mumbled, raising an eyebrow all the time, as if he'd been hit on the forehead and it'd been stuck ever since. “It was probably our sweetheart Candy. The guy was pierced by a barbell through his stomach and his eyes were removed with a piece of wood. The eyes were found in his ass. Pretty fucked up, if ya ask me.”

Tucker went pale and looked disgusted at his food. “Such information before breakfast. How disgusting."

Erik forgot to breathe for a moment. The guy who was found murdered in block C was hopefully not the same guy he'd put in the locker room to use for his purposes. Because what if he was?

Throughout the breakfast, Erik persuaded himself that it was a different muscle man. However, when - just to be on the safe side - he went to the equipment rooms in the morning and looked at the training ground, he did not find him. Another guy came up to Erik instead and suddenly spat in his face.

"Stay away from us, fuck rat," he accused him, grimacing almost in pain. "He's dead now because of you. Just because you couldn't keep your dirty fingers off him."

Erik's heart suddenly felt heavy. “It was not my intention to throw him to his own grave. I don't even know who did it. I was in the infirmary and then in my cell.”

But his defence fell on deaf ears. "Fuck off! Go back to your master and get fucked, but don't get any more of us involved!”

The allusions to his master made Erik startled. Was Shaw behind it? In any case, he couldn't ask him. And he didn't know how else he would get more information. So he went back to his cell, where he was staring lonely out of the window. Whoever was after Erik made him unsure.

After stewing over his head for more hours, he went for another walk. The weather had gotten better again, so that even the sun came out here and there. He took the chance and took a closer look at the outside area. He found cameras again. And of course a lot of fences and security gates.

Suddenly he recognized a tall, gaunt figure standing at such a gate. It was the laundry. Hank was standing at a container with a big rifle and was probably waiting for something because he was staring bored into the distance. Erik quickly approached the fence that separated him from Hank.

"Hank," Erik shouted jumpy, but tried to muffle his voice so that not too many inmates would be made aware of the conversation. "Hank, it's me. Erik! "

The man actually turned and looked at Erik, startled. He struggled for a moment, looked around furtively, but finally came up to him. He ducked at the fence as if that would make the situation less noticeable.

"What are you doing here?"

"To go for a walk. Medical prescription,” he murmured, pointing to his stomach. Hank looked only briefly, then nodded.

"Not here, go away," he hissed, pointing to the area behind him. "You're too close to block C."

With wide eyes he looked at the complex behind the laundry. An old, somewhat rotten building. "So that's C ..."

"Yes and now go!"

"Where's Charles?" Erik asked, of course, the one question he didn't really want to ask.

Hank didn't answer immediately, so Erik just kept asking.

"How is he? Did he hear about the murder? The guy - I didn't want him to die, I just used him – “

"Go now, Erik!" Hank hissed one last time and even stamped on the floor. A very helpless gesture for someone who should have portray more power. “If Charles sees you, he'll go nuts. He's been cracking up for the past few days. If you don't want other people to die, the best thing to do is lock yourself up in a cell and not interact with anyone. With that, you’d do us a huge favour! Lay low and sing small, get well and then stay down!”

With that he left.

Erik had never had so many questions as when he let go of the cell block C grid. Who was _we_? Charles cracking up? And more importantly, did Charles have anything to do with the murder?

Of course it was useless to go to the showers again at 8 p.m. Nobody was there. No Hank and no Charles. But Erik strongly suspected that Charles still had his eyes and ears everywhere, so he had to work with it.

If Charles really had been the muscle-man killer, the situation was really getting out of hand. He only killed the men around him and not Erik himself, but that didn't make things any better. On the contrary: Charles behaved more and more like Candy. Erik was beginning to wonder if the two of them were the same person. After all, Charles could easily have been lying. Or as he called it: not being able to talk about it because of "security"-reasons.

Then again: Charles didn't look like someone who murdered his whores in the worst possible way. Just the opposite actually, he had protected Erik as far as possible. That became clear to him now that he had seen and experienced the sex cellar. Who knows what Antonio would have done to him if Charles hadn't intervened.

But Erik wasn’t 100% sure whether there was more to it than his eyes let him believe.

The waiting game didn't get any funnier as time went on. Instead, Erik leaned like an old man in the waiting room in the infirmary, waiting for his appointment. Control, change of bandages. Erik read annoyingly a stupid magazine before he saw other men bleeding in the face. That’s when Dr. Darkholme showed up. She wore her hair in a strict bun. Generally she looked tired and somehow worn out.

"Hello Erik," she greeted him in a calm voice and indicated that he should follow her into a treatment room. It wasn't her office, just a tiny room that couldn't even be closed since there was no door. Just a curtain. Which wasn't even wide enough to keep any curious looks away.

Erik sat on a scuffed bed and pulled his shirt up so Dr. Darkholme could get to his bandage.

"How are you?" she asked calmly, opening the bandage as she focused on the wound.

"It's okay," he said, staring at the curtain. "The wound still hurts a lot from time to time."

“I can give you more medication. Do you still have some?"

"A few. But if you have one or two more for the rest of the week, that wouldn't be bad.”

She nodded and unrolled the bandage. When she was done and removed the compresses, she looked into Erik's eyes for the first time. Her eyes looked stern. But also soothing. As if she saw Erik for the first time.

But before Erik could ask, she looked down again and started pulling out new bandages and compresses.

“The threads are still a little swollen. I'm just going to give you another bandage. Then come again at the end of next week. So we can pull the strings.”

"Thanks," Erik murmured, already suspecting that microphones or cameras were installed in such a small room. An open discussion would not have been possible here either.

"Do you want an ointment for your other ... wounds?" she asked suddenly, pointing to Erik's wrists, which lay exactly in her field of vision. The dark red streaks slowly turned purple. Some crusts had formed around the vacancies.

"Yes, that would be nice," Erik nodded gratefully and pressed his lips together. He felt a little ashamed to sit on a couch so helplessly and to be patted like a child. Dr. Darkholme leaned closer and started whispering in a very quiet voice. "I want to help you, but I don't yet know how."

Erik's eyes widened.

"Be patient," she whispered, opening a few packs for compresses and bandages. "But please don't do anything like that anymore." She pointed to the stab wound.

"I had to," Erik growled slightly irritably, since it was the second person who said that they knew better about the do's and don'ts of his current situation than he himself.

"I'm serious, Erik," said Dr. Darkholme angrier than Erik was used to see her. “You don't even know what you are doing here. The situation was tense enough before you appeared. Now the whole dilemma has doubled because you can't keep your butt still!”

Erik's eyes widened. "... you know something about the whole thing?"

Dr. Darkholme immediately took a step back and attached the compress a little too tight. Erik winced, but couldn't be dissuaded. “You know something! Tell me! What exactly is happening here? Who's involved in what?”

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said in a louder tone, and looked at Erik modestly. _Too loud_.

Erik bit his lower lip. Finally, he nodded resignedly and got treated. Dr. Darkholme then gave him a small tube of wound healing cream and pain reliever.

Annoyed by the whole situation, he went out and demonstratively stood again near the fence to cell block C. Hank was no longer to be seen, so nobody would send him away. Maybe Charles was standing by a window somewhere, watching him. Defiant like a small child, he lit a cigarette and hastily smoked it.

However, when nothing happened, he went back to his cell resigned. Tucker talked to him for the rest of the evening until he took another walk. He went to the showers again.

But this time he heard water. There were no guards to be seen, so Erik hoped for the best. Or worst. He didn't really know how to face Charles. If he should do it at all. But before he could decide against it, he was already in the changing room of the showers.

It smelled of mango everywhere.

Erik finally went into the hot shower room, where water vapor made it difficult to see. But there he was. Dressed. Right next to the shower spray he had turned on. Only his bare feet and hands were wet. The soap was foamed on the soap dispenser. As if he had only used it as an attractant.

Erik could see scratches on Charles' wrists. External influence, he suspected. His leg was no longer bandaged. It was still a little blue.

Charles carefully raised his eyes and stared at his friend, who had stopped frozen at the entrance to the locker room. His eyelids were red. His hair lay uncombed on his face with wild waves.

"Hank said it’s not a good idea see you now," he began to speak softly, letting the shower run. He just kept leaning against the tiles. “And I think he was right. It doesn't feel as good as I hoped… to see you.”

Erik pressed his lips together. Charles looked just as worn out as everyone else in Erik's immediate vicinity. And it was probably his fault.

When he said nothing more, Charles pushed himself off the wall and switched off the shower. But he didn't move towards Erik. “I saw you standing on the grid today. Smoking. You always looked in my direction. Then I thought we could possibly meet again here. Though I wasn't sure you'd come.”

Erik was about to say that Charles hadn't been the one missing at their usual place the last times, but he didn't want to start making accusations again. After all ... he didn't know who this man was. And how he would react to further accusations of guilt.

"Why are you here, Erik?" Charles asked softly, looking like a kicked puppy in his direction.

"I wanted to see you," he admitted, actually wanting to take a step towards him, but he couldn't get his legs to move.

Charles slowly crossed his arms. But it looked more like he was cold. Or he wanted to protect himself. “So you had enough? From your actions?”

Even though Erik had hoped they wouldn't argue again, he felt the air between them grow thicker again. Because if Erik wasn't good at something, it was admitted that he was wrong. "No. I still adhere to the fact that I will get my information. The way to this point was just ... a bit rockier than I thought.”

"For fuck’s sake!" Charles cried suddenly aggressively. “Don't tell me such nonsense! You were dragged into Shaw's cave and came out demolished! What did he do to you? Don't tell me that that just passed you by! Emotional blindness or not - you can't be _that_ blind!”

Erik shivered tightly as he remembered what Shaw had done. The thought of piss on his face made him choke again.

“And as if that wasn't enough, you messed with another guy who stabbed you! Why did you want to get fucked again right after Shaw? Are you stupid? Did you lose part of your brain during the search for information? What exactly are you trying to accomplish with shit like that?”

It took a little moment for Erik to catch himself again. Charles, on the other hand, clenched his fists as if he were ready to punch Erik at any moment.

“You are so full of yourself, Erik! I don't understand why you can't just admit that I was right and that this whole mess should end now!”

Even if he would have preferred nothing more than to fall into the arms of his somewhat disturbed lover, he wanted to keep a safe distance. He nervously played with his fingernails as he prepared for the worst. “How did you know the guy stabbed me? He told everyone I did this to myself.”

"I didn't believe him," Charles growled.

Erik tried to figure out what might happen in the next few minutes, but he just didn't know. Charles remained a book with seven seals. "I only told Dr. Darkholme that he was the one who stabbed me. Nobody else. Because it was a lie. He hadn't had anything to do with it. He was just an alibi so Shaw wouldn't think I was going against his will again.”

Charles suddenly loosened his fists. He still looked pinched in Erik's direction, but his reaction revealed what was going on: he had spoken with Dr. Darkholme. About him. About the incident.

"Are you in touch with her?" Erik asked almost tonelessly, already knowing the answer. But he wanted to hear it out of Charles' mouth.

He bit his lip and looked pinched to the side. In fact, he started to nod, closing his eyes as if he regretted the answer. "Yes. She told me about the incident.”

"Why should she do that?"

“Because she knows…” and Charles took a deep breath, as if the words would take his breath away, “that I have to do with you. She knew I wanted to hear the news.”

“Charles, what’s your relationship with Dr. Darkholme? Is she one of your spies?”

"No," Charles said immediately, looking back at his friend. “She has nothing to do with anyone here. Except with me. It's for personal reasons, okay?”

“You're keeping something from me again? Is it for my security again? “

"Actually, it has something to do with _her_ safety, Erik," Charles countered, finally stepping closer to him. But the personal distance of half a meter was kept. “Just stop throwing yourself in such dangerous situations! Come back to me, I'll take care of it for you! We will sort it out. I will find a solution that Shaw leaves you alone, but you have to give me more time and above all give me the reins. I can't act if you just keep doing whatever comes to your mind!”

“So basically I'm supposed to be your unwilling slave? What's the difference between you and Antonio? Because I hear the offer of protection from all corners. But everyone expects me to give up my freedom for it.”

“The difference between me and Antonio is more than obvious! I care about you and would never completely take away your freedom! Antonio just wanted to fuck you.”

They shouted at each other again. If there was a microphone in the immediate vicinity, any conversation would now go straight into Shaw's ear. “Are you worried about me? Did you kill the guy because of that?”

Charles’ lid twitched. In a dangerously quiet voice, he confirmed the previous assumption. "He hurt you, Erik."

"You pierced his guts with a barbell and replaced his eyeballs with wood splinters just to push them up his ass."

“He deserved it! You don't believe what he said! What he called you! And don't think you were the first person he abused and hurt!” Charles defended, basically just riding himself into damnation. Because he confirmed every suspicion that Erik had built up in the past few hours.

"He didn't hurt me, Charles!" Erik tried to tell his friend that the situation was very different. “I dragged him into the locker room because my plan was to hurt myself so I wouldn't have to go back to Shaw! He wants to meet in this basement every day from now on and I couldn't. So I only had this one chance. But since it should appear credible, I had to get someone to do it! Of course, there was a statement against a statement, but in the end he was just a middle man! He didn't even really touch me!”

Charles' eyes widened, but he didn't seem to regret anything.

"You killed him in a really hideous way, Charles," Erik began to make the situation clearer. “It was absolutely unnecessary! Not just the murder itself, but also the staging! Did you want to make it look like a Candy murder again? How so? That doesn't lead to anything, except that people are even more afraid of this man! Unless you can't do anything else because you are him. Shit, Charles, be honest with me: are you Candy?”

"What? What are you talking about?” Charles whispered suddenly off the track.

“Are you Candy or are you not? I have to know it!"

“Do you really think I'm a child molester who mutilates his lovers for fun? Do I look like this?”

“No, but you murder like him: extreme! And don't tell me that you don't have a perfidious pleasure in disfiguring these men like that!”

Charles lost all sense of adjusting the volume of his voice again. “You think I'm doing this for _fun_? You think I enjoy sneaking through the corridors in the middle of the night and murder men because you can't keep your cock still?”

“Oh, so you're saying I'm responsible for the whole situation? That I'm basically forcing you to do all this?” Erik could hardly believe his own ears. But neither could Charles found some good in this conversation.

"If I didn't intervene all the time, you'd be dead!"

"Nobody asks you to do it!" Erik snapped back, finally moving closer to Charles until they were almost chest to chest. “Are you Candy or are you not? Because your obsession, your behaviour, your dominance and the fact that you just murder like a maniac any inmates to whom I come too close for your liking only reinforce the assumption!”

Charles leaned forward, touched Erik's chin with his nose and blinked the tears from his eyes again. "I. Am. Not. Candy."

Erik pressed his lips together. On one hand, he was relieved that his block C-lover had not been the crazy killer and boss of the entire prison. On the other hand, he was disappointed. A piece of the puzzle that he couldn’t use and had to put on the edge again. "Still, you kill like him ... stop it."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Charles whimpered, trying hard not to cry.

"The man died senselessly," Erik tried again, tragically, but Charles was unimpressed.

"I kill who I want," he breathed dominantly in Erik's direction. His breath didn't smell very good, as if he hadn't eaten for several hours. “So if you want to see it like that, then yes - then Candy and I are not that different. But you wouldn't understand that. You sit here in your nest full of love and care. It's always easy to look down on those who don't have it.”

Erik had absolutely no idea what Charles was talking about. Because love and care? Where?

Finally his friend leaned back a little and gained some distance from Erik. “I'm in conflict, you know. On one side, I want to save you. I want you to be safe and that you are fine because I still really appreciate and like you even though you say such things to me. That's stupid and I guess it will cost me my head someday,” Charles said, as if he had made the stupidest decision of his life. “On the other hand, I want to see how you will handle it on your own. Your way. Because so far it doesn't seem to be going particularly well. Shaw will bring you back soon. Either you manage to throw him other men to his feet or you end up in a garbage can, as you always put it. And that happens faster than you'd like.”

Of course Charles was not wrong. Erik was at a crossroad where he didn't quite know which way to go. But no matter which way he looked, it was paved with blood and death.

"So it looks like I have a choice between an influential murderer and another influential murderer," Erik joked without laughing. Charles, on the other hand, wiped a grin on his damp face as if he'd found the joke funny.

"The only difference is that one of the two murderers really likes you, asshole," he said with a wry smile and showed Erik his middle finger. “Go to hell, Erik. And greet all the other assholes on your way there.”

"If you hate me like that, why did you send me the bathrobe and soap?" Erik asked before Charles could sneak past him. “The bathrobe gave me my first visit to Shaw. Was that intentional? Did you plan that?”

Charles stopped and looked at Erik with wide eyes. But before the horror could settle on his face again, he caught himself. “You really think bad of me in every situation. Even if I want to do something good for you.”

With that he got out of the shower. He ran barefoot over the tiles with quick steps.

“Shaw took it from me. The bathrobe,” Erik called after him, swallowing a large lump. "But I still have the soap."

Before he could finish the sentence, he heard the heavy door slam shut.


	15. Invalid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter:  
> \- sexual harassement / abuse  
> \- violence  
> \- bullying  
> \- mentioning of amputation

The conversation had been an absolute disaster. Erik hadn't felt that bad in a long time. Not only physically, but also psychologically. He didn't really know why he had thrown such things at Charles. Why he continued to distrust him. Maybe it was the exaggerated murders. Charles killed because he thought he had to get Erik out of some shit. Why he was so passionate about it was still a mystery, but Erik also felt somewhat safe. He hadn't been a target himself. So far, Charles seemed to have thick fur for his messy lover.

His wounds still hurt and time passed like a snake. Erik used the free time and kept counting cameras, making notes of any escape routes and trying to figure out if he could find a way to block C.

When he stood outside the fence again, however, he saw neither Hank nor Charles. Only laundry workers looking at him crookedly because he was smoking on the grille. He actually wanted to stop, but it was his way of teasing Charles. Because apparently you only got him out of his hole with bad behaviour.

In the evening, however, the shower was empty again. No Charles, no bathrobe, no mango smell. Resigned and a little disappointed, he went back to his cell. Even if he didn't know what he would have hoped for from a second meeting. He wanted to reconcile deep inside him. With his crazy killer friend, who had given him more love and affection than anyone else around him for the past 10 years.

Two more days passed in which nothing happened when suddenly Emma was back in the aisle and watched Erik.

"Please come with me, Mr. Lehnsherr," she said in her typical smug voice and waited for Erik to move. Tucker was still beside him. They had just come out of the canteen.

"Are you all right, bub?" he whispered, anxiously switching eye contact between Emma and Erik.

"No," he replied tensely, trying to take a deep breath. The day came faster than expected. Dr. Darkholme didn't even pull his strings.

"We were just going to the infirmary," Tucker said, pointing to Erik's wound. "Can't he come over later?"

"He can't," the blonde said very pointedly, raising both eyebrows to show her impatience. "Mr. Lehnsherr - now.”

The two men aimed their machine guns in their grips.

Erik had no choice but to nod and finally give Tucker a thankful look. He looked after him sadly and probably expected the worst. Like Erik.

Fortunately, he was standing in front of Shaw's office and not on the scary basement stairs. Since it was only afternoon and not evening, Erik hoped for the best. Namely just a conversation. Or in the worst case a blowjob.

When the door opened and Shaw greeted him with a smile, as usual, an extremely uncomfortable feeling spread again in Erik's stomach area. The man who seemed so caring and kind was the worst monster he had ever met. Because even Charles, who murdered in such a brutal way, wasn't a monster in Erik's eyes. He had people around him whom he cared. He laughed when he found something funny. He cried when he was hurt. He was a human being.

Shaw, on the other hand, was a psychopath. The man felt perfidious joy in everything he did. Especially in the very disgusting things.

"Sit down, Erik," he said in a rather disappointed tone when Emma closed the door and they were both alone again. For once, Shaw sat in his chair and waited. Erik did as he was asked and put his hands on his lap as usual. He hoped Shaw wouldn't kick his balls again.

"How are you?" Shaw asked, as if he was interested. Indeed, he looked worriedly at the belly where the wound was still throbbing.

"It hurts a lot," Erik said, hoping that would leave him alone.

"Yes," Shaw nodded sympathetically, "a stab wound is not pleasant. I used to have one too, you know?”

Erik said nothing, just stubbornly looked straight ahead. Shaw took this as a sign that he could go on.

“An inmate once pushed a pen through my shoulder. Completely through,” he said excitedly, pointing to his left shoulder. “The man had guts. After all, my guards are out there. I took it with some humour, you know?”

Erik couldn't imagine a situation where one could take a pierced shoulder with humour.

“I punished the man and threw him back into his little prison. A few weeks in solitary confinement do wonders.”

Erik was slowly beginning to feel that the story had a deeper meaning.

Indeed, Shaw finally sighed and leaned back in his chair. He clasped his hands in front of his stomach after placing his glasses on the desk. “Since you've been here, my prison has become a circus again. My inmates are restless, die one after the other and fuck their brains out. I have usually enjoyed such phases very much, but I notice that it is different this time. You're different, Erik.”

He wasn't sure if he liked the direction this conversation was going. Couldn't he just give him a blowjob and go back to his cell?

“I see you are watching the cameras. I also see that you are talking to a lot of different people here. Not necessarily about me or your invisible friend, whom I don't think is so invisible after all. I will also take care of that at a propriate time. But you're worrying me more right now, child.”

Shaw leaned forward again, hands clasped, and laid them on the table like a reprimanding father. He smiled the crooked smile he always had when he felt true dominance in his veins.

“I've heard that my prison has been infiltrated again. Only rumours so far, but you, my dear Erik, are not making yourself very popular with all your investigations. What do you think I start to believe when you sniff at my things?”

There it came. The accusation of being a spy.

“You and me ... that was fantastic. And I want to do it again. But I see that you'd rather hurt yourself than meet me again. You even took the risk that the poor man you used would soon come to an end. Do you like pain so much?”

Suddenly he got up. Erik's alarm bells ringed like hell, but his legs didn't move. His breath grew faster - but what should he do? Ram a pen into his other shoulder and hope the man would take it with humour?

Shaw stood next to Erik, who stubbornly looked ahead and tried to avoid the situation as best he could. A hand ran over his neck. Then it squeezed and let Erik's shoulders go up. “You have a choice: tell me the truth and I'll pretend it never happened. We have our fun and I might be a little gentler on you. Or be silent and we will intensify the whole thing.”

Erik had no choice, right? He would go for it. Either way. Charles was right: eat or be eaten.

He gathered all his courage and jumped up from the chair to free himself from Shaw's grip. He shoved him against his desk and picked up the first thing he could find: the computer screen. He threw it as best as he could in Shaw's direction, who stumbled again. Erik panicked for another item and threw a stapler at Shaw. He felt like a damsel in distress trying to keep her tormentor away by throwing cotton balls at him. Shaw hadn't called his guards yet - a good sign.

Suddenly, however, Shaw jumped on Erik and wrestled him to the ground. Erik managed to shake him off again, but his wound was burning too much for him to be able to perform at his best. He gasped and held his stomach as he tried to crawl away.

Shaw was right behind him and stepped on his leg with full force. It cracked.

"Fuck!" Erik cried out, holding his shin immediately. Shaw took the opportunity and stepped on Erik again. This time on the crest. Then on his back. Finally, the stomach. Erik felt the stitches burst.

"You're a bad boy, Erik," he said out of breath, standing over Erik so that he held him between his legs. He bent down and hit Erik. The blows were not firm, but strong enough to make him bleed. The nose hurt, the lip - everything. It reminded him of the first brawl he had in the shower. With Charles.

Where was he? Why couldn't he come in now? Barefoot. In his black bathrobe, which would quickly turn red. Erik wanted nothing more than for Charles to kill Shaw. The hatred in him grew with every blow Shaw made.

Eventually he stilled when Erik stopped moving. He was still conscious, but gave up trying to fight back. It had no sense. The pain also paralyzed him.

Shaw bit his lip and suddenly fiddled with his belt. His fists were bloody and cracked from the beatings. Nevertheless, he took out his stiff cock and began to masturbate on Erik. He spread the blood of his hands over his shaft and used it as a lubricant.

“I would like to fuck and punish you further now, but I think you'd die away. And I don't want to see you go so early. I want to know who you are first, Erik Lehnsherr,” he grunted as he continued to rub furiously over Erik's chest. "Who the hell are you?!"

In the end he came while moaning loudly and spread his sperm over Erik's bloody shirt. He lay there like dead and blinked at the ceiling through his already swollen eyes.

After that he didn't notice much. Shaw dressed again, got Emma in, and ordered two helpers to get Erik out. At some point he ended up in the infirmary, where he was put back on the silver table and patched up.

He only regained consciousness after several hours. Tucker was sitting at his bed, holding his hand. A sweet gesture that made Erik grin. His whole face hurt and was swollen. But the morphine in his drip made him happy.

“Bub, what happened? How are you?” He asked shaken, squeezing Erik's hand a little harder. Somehow it felt like he was about to break it.

"I’m fine ..." he murmured as best he could, blinking through his swollen eyes. "How are you?"

Tucker sighed and was about to ask very confused when Dr. Darkholme pushed the curtain aside and stood near the bed. She discreetly closed the curtain behind her.

“We had to give him strong medication. Anaesthesia certainly shows its after-effects. He'll be like that for a while,” she explained to Tucker, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You're his cellmate, right?"

He nodded and smiled politely at the lady.

“Give him some rest. He needs it.”

With that, both disappeared. Anyway, that was what Erik had noticed. He slept through the day - or what was left of it - and only woke up briefly at night when a hand stroked his head again.

He saw Charles sitting at his bed in the bland moonlight. He was wearing a guard's uniform. At least Erik suspected it was a uniform. It was a little too big. The light was too weak and he was still too tired and drunk from the anaesthetic.

"Hey, babe," Charles whispered softly, stroking Erik's beard, which was slowly showing up again. "How are you?"

Erik wasn't sure whether he imagined the whole thing or not. Why should Charles still come and visit him after everything that happened?

"Like shit," Erik replied as best he could through his swollen lips. He felt the many stitches on his lower lip with his tongue. His nose hurt and he could hardly breathe.

But it felt good to be touched by Charles. So he leaned against the warm hand that held his cheek.

"Did Shaw do this to you?" he heard Charles speak softly. Erik nodded as best he could while enjoying the touch with his eyes closed. "I wish I could kill him."

 _Yes_ , Erik wished at that very moment the most. They finally agreed.

“But that would also cost us our lives. I'll try to get you out of there, okay?”

Erik nodded again. Not knowing what he actually agreed to.

“There must be an uprising. Something that will keep Shaw busy long enough.”

Charles' warm hands felt wonderful. Erik felt himself slowly sinking back into deep sleep.

"Some have to die."

His voice grew weaker.

"Let him regret what he did to you."

The loving warmth remained. A gentle stroke of his hair followed.

"Come back to me."

When Erik woke up the next morning, everything hurt. The morphine was beginning to stop working and the nurse hadn't brought him any new pain relievers. He was again lying in bed like an invalid and just hoping it would give him a respite. But it couldn't go on like this. Shaw would not give up. Least of all after the strange conversation, where he had admitted so openly that he was being given information about any spies. Erik felt that the whole situation was slowly coming to a peak. Either he would act soon or end up dead in a corner.

Then he remembered Charles. How he had been with him last night. Or had he dreamed that?

"Hi, Erik," Dr. Darkholme suddenly said as she pushed the curtain aside and approached the bed. She was holding some packaging; some of those pain relievers. But she handed him a small mug with a strange liquid in it. "Drink that, it works faster than the tablets."

She didn't have to tell Erik twice. He quickly emptied the mug. Dr. Darkholme meanwhile sat down on the edge of Erik's bed. A strangely intimate gesture for a doctor. But then Erik remembered that she was dealing with Charles. Maybe Erik was no longer just a patient to her, but an ally?

“You have some internal bruises this time. We had to sew your mouth and tape your nose. It broke. Your leg was just cracked, you were lucky here,” she said calmly, placing the boxes of pills on Erik's bedside table. “Your cut on your stomach opened again. We sewed it up a second time. The scar will probably get bigger now.”

Erik just listened to her and felt how the liquid pain reliever slowly began working. On an empty stomach, it made him a little dizzy. But that was okay - it felt better than the pain.

“You'll get a lot of bruises, but they're not bad. Normal bruising. We'll keep you here for two days. Because of the internal injuries, we want to watch you for a while.”

This news made Erik happy. Or it was the pain reliever. In any case, that meant: No Shaw.

“Please move as much as you can, but of course only as long as it doesn't cause you any pain. I informed Tucker that you would stay here for now. He wanted to come over later to bring you some things.”

"It's very nice of him," Erik growled, feeling his eyes becoming heavy again.

"Here," said Dr. Darkholme before she got up again and pointed to the many packages next to his bed. “Here are tablets and a cream. It cools. For your swelling. Apply as needed.”

With a heavy look and a tired smile, she finally left.

In the morning Tucker actually came over and brought him a change of clothes and his toothbrush. Eventually he pulled out a little homemade mouse made from grey fabric and put it on Erik's chest.

"I went to see Scott today," he said, not explaining who Scott was. “He works in this sewing factory. They actually make such small bags that you can use for shopping. What women like. But we stole some fabric and made that for you. Cute, right?”

Erik didn't quite know if he'd find it cute or embarrassing. But in the end it was rather sweet. The mouse was a bit crooked, but actually well done. The fabric was very fluffy.

"Thank you, that's very nice," he said, turning the mouse in his hands. He quickly remembered that he was not allowed to accept any gifts. “But you'd better take it back… I don't want to be in trouble with gifts. The bathrobe has done enough.”

Tucker immediately looked sadly at the mouse and carefully took it back. “Sure, sorry. I did not think of that."

An uncomfortable tug spread across Erik's chest. For that he hasn’t felt much emotions over the past years, it felt like a roller coaster since arriving in prison. After a moment's thought, Erik picked up the mouse again and stuck it under the covers. “It'll be fine. I can hide it easier than a bathrobe.”

At least that made Tucker grin. “I don't want you to get in trouble, bub. From whoever.”

"From the top," Erik murmured, not sure how much information he could reveal. "A lot is happening at the moment."

"A lot of bad shit, it seems to me," his friend sighed, patting Erik on the blanket. “If there's anything I can do, tell me. I am glad to help. You are a nice guy, bub. I am glad to have you as my cellmate. You've been the most pleasant of them all.”

Erik tried to smile, but the threads in his mouth ached too much. So it just became a crooked corner of the mouth. "Did you already have so many cellmates?"

Tucker shrugged. “Been a few, yes. Somehow everyone always dies.”

A cold shiver ran down Erik's spine. That was probably his fate too: to be found dead in a remote place in prison.

In the late afternoon, Erik tried to take a few steps. His leg hurt too much though, so he took crutches for support. Shaw had exaggerated excessively. It would be weeks before Erik was back on track. That was probably his intention. After all, he began to suspect him as an informer from outside. In fact, Erik had to find incriminating evidence that Shaw would put in his own prison. A dildo from the sex cellar was unfortunately not enough. So Erik had to keep looking to make sure Shaw was going to be blown off his throne. He also had to take care of the mafia business. Everything was going so slowly. A thousand things happened at the same time. Erik would never have expected the prison to be so eventful.

On his long walk, he again met a few inmates who looked at him, startled or furtively. They were scared. But the distance was good for Erik. Until of course a group of guys came up to him when he was about to light a cigarette outside at the fence to cell block C. They seemed to have followed him.

"Well, hello there fuck rat," one of the three men greeted with a pinched face. Erik remembered him weakly. It was the one who spat on his face. Because that's exactly what he did again. Erik turned his face in disgust and felt the spit running down his temple. With his jacket sleeve, he washed the moisture off his forehead while holding the two crutches with his other hand.

"Someone really seems to like you," he scoffed, eyeing Erik extensively. "You know what? I listened to some gossip a little bit. Candy doesn't even know you. So you don't belong to him. You probably hired someone to kill Ricky yourself.”

Oh, _Ricky_ was the name of the guy Erik had almost had sex in a locker room with. Sorry Ricky.

"Candy doesn't know me," Erik repeated, lighting his cigarette. What a lie. "Aha."

"So you're not his whore at all, ass face," one of the other two guys started and kicked Erik's crutches away. They fell loudly to the ground. Erik just watched and kept the cigarette he was about to light in his mouth.

“We could kill you here. Just like that, nobody would notice,” the leader threatened again in a low voice, moving his head as if agreeing with himself. Obviously ignoring the fact that there were enough cameras in this place to shoot a 360° video. “You may be glad we are not murderers. Not like you."

Erik took the cigarette out of his mouth again. "Congratulations."

Then of course the first fist hit him. Thank God not on his broken nose, but on the jaw. It hurt immediately, but the pain was bearable. He was probably still thumped by the rest of the pain relievers.

"Shut up, you bastard!" the thug leader shouted, grabbing Erik by the collar to press him against the fence. “You killed Ricky! Why?!"

There were tears in his eyes and Erik kind of understood the fuss: there probably was more than just an acquaintanceship involved. Ricky and the guy? Then why did Ricky want to sleep with Erik when he was involved in some kind of relationship? Maybe it was a one-sided love.

Erik was pressed against the fence again while the other two thugs took his crutches and threw them over the fence. Then they laughed maliciously and whistled back to their leader, as a guard was approaching. With an aggressive swing he threw Erik to the ground.

Then they left.

It took Erik a few seconds to straighten up. Everything hurt. His muscles, his bones - everything.

"Are you all right?" he heard Hank's voice behind him.

"Mmm," Erik grumbled, half-turning as he sat on the floor. "Good timing."

"Saw you from the window," he admitted, picking up the crutches. "Should I throw them over to you again ... or do you want them at the gate?"

"Just throw them over," sighed Erik and finally heaved himself up with the help of the fence. Hank did his best to throw the crutches back over the fence as gently as possible, but again they hit rather ugly the asphalt. Erik would have felt very bad since the things were only borrowed. But they looked exactly like crutches who were borrowed, so his guilt feeling was limited.

"Thank you, Hank," he whispered, bending over to grab the crutches. "I've just been out of luck lately."

"I can see that." Hank eyed him closely. His frown line was clearly visible even though he was wearing his big glasses over it. "Get well soon."

With a nod of thanks, Erik said goodbye and hobbled back to the infirmary. There he washed his face extensively and applied the cooling cream. It really helped a lot.

The next morning, he was better. With enough medication, he could even go to the toilet without crutches. They finally pulled off the needles from the IV bag so that he no longer had to walk around with the infusion. He had had no visitors that night. Unless the first time was not a dream. Anyway, Charles hadn't shown up.

Tucker, however, did. He asked about the mouse and if Erik was better. They finally named the little mouse Wanda. The whole thing made Tucker extremely adorable. In those moments, Erik forgot that he was dealing with a clever drug dealer who might even be pretending.

"Have you heard? Three guys got their feet cut off this night,” Tucker said, as if he were going to tell Erik about the food from the canteen.

Erik already knew where that would lead. No matter what happened to him, whoever did it to him would pay for it. His personal revenge angel from block C would take care of that.

“Nobody knows where the feet have gone - but gross, right? How do you cut off one foot from three men at a time? And above all why?”

Because the men mistreated Erik's crutches and Charles loved such metaphors. "I don't know," was all Erik said. "Did you know them?"

"Nah," Tucker shook his head. "As far as I know, they're doing pretty well. Was probably amputated under the joint so that they can wear a prosthesis relatively well.”

"Well, at least," Erik sighed, rubbing his nose bridge. _Charles, what the hell are you doing?_

“Thought you might know them. One was probably in a relationship with the guy who was found dead a few days ago. Everyone was somehow ... related to you.”

When Erik actually saw fear in Tucker's eyes, he had to contribute a little more to the topic than before. “I guess that's pure coincidence. I don't know the guys. Except for the one who died. And even that incident ... I didn't even know his name.”

"Strange anyway ..." his friend murmured, playing with his sleeve. "I just hope I won't be found somewhere dead sometime ... Because I gave you a mouse."

“No, I don't think so, Tucker. You're a good person, why should you get hurt?”

And Erik could only hope that he was right.

Because of his pain, he could not sleep in the evening. His leg itched tremendously under the light plaster, his nose itched under the tape and his stomach throbbed with every heartbeat. So he stared at the white curtain in front of his bedside and wondered how he could go on with all those stupid things that have happened. He remembered Charles ’words:

_"Come back to me."_

There was almost nothing else Erik wanted more. Maybe that was really the solution. By now, Erik could not gain much from the other inmates. No matter where he went, they harassed or massacred him. They should all go down with this ship. He had been really convinced that he would do his job without any help. But he needed Charles. Maybe they could do it together. Corner Shaw, end the Mafia, find the undercover cop.

If Erik was honest with himself, he just wanted to go back to Charles. His job had almost become irrelevant. It was time that things went according to Erik's plan.


	16. The Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter:  
> \- none :-)

In the night he felt the delicate hand caressing his head again. Erik saw a black silhouette sitting on his bed, which was again wearing a slightly too large uniform. But Charles said nothing. He simply stroked Erik's head and held his other hand. So Erik said nothing as well and just pressed Charles’ loving fingers as best he could. He didn't ask why he had taken the men's feet off. He didn't ask where the feet were either. What would it achieve? Charles would only defend himself again and Erik wouldn’t change his point of view. It just didn't matter anymore.

At some point he fell asleep again and wished Charles had been with him the next morning. But of course he wasn't. Only the plump nurse who brought him breakfast again.

Dr. Darkholme came back to him in the morning. She looked very tired again. Worn off. Somehow off track.

"How are you, Erik?" she asked at the highest professional level, although the question would have been better directed at her.

"Thank you, a little bit better," he replied just as professionally. “The cream helps very well. However, the pain is still very uncomfortable.”

“You have a broken nose and a sprained leg. It will take time. But I'll take a closer look at your wounds.”

While she was doing this, she said nothing. Instead, she seemed to be completely focused on her work to avoid another topic. Erik's abrasions on the neck and joints receded. The stab wound had to remain sutured until the end of the week. But she was already pulling the threads in his mouth.

As she changed the bandage on his foot, he wondered why she was doing it and not one of the nurses. Why was she the only doctor he had ever seen and cared for anyway?

When the silence became unbearable, Erik whispered as quietly as he could: "How do you know Charles?"

Of course, she froze. Startled, she looked up and looked into Erik's eyes. She opened and closed her mouth as if she didn't know how to react to it, while her previous non-verbal reaction showed everything Erik needed to know: that they knew each other indeed. And apparently well.

“He is ... a prisoner. I treated him once,” Dr. Darkholme replied as casually as possible. "Why?"

"He told me about you," Erik admitted quietly, hoping no one was listening. If Shaw found out who Charles was, everything would end. But Charles was probably smart enough to cover up the connection if necessary.

"He did?" Dr. Darkholme breathed, as if a bomb had just been dropped and she was waiting for the detonation. She ended the bandage quite quickly and finally got up as if stung by a bee. Again she exchanged nervous looks between Erik and his wounds until she finally picked up the garbage and said goodbye with a polite nod.

Erik just lay there. And wondered in what context Dr. Darkholme was with Charles.

Erik was allowed to leave in the afternoon. With the little plush mouse in his pocket and his other things under his arm, he hobbled back to his cell without crutches. Tucker saw him arrive halfway and came to support him. Of course, he had the latest gossip in store.

"They're all afraid of you," he admitted when they were both in the cell and Erik could sit on a chair. The short way had been hard enough.

"That's a good thing," Erik murmured, stroking his still swollen face. "I'm not going to stay here that long, anyway."

That made Tucker startled. He immediately sat down at the table with Erik. "What do you mean? Do you want to break out?”

"In the long run ... maybe," he murmured, to make it look believable. Although the idea appealed to him very much. He couldn't stand it for more than three months. "In the shorter term, I have to come to cell block C."

Tucker gasped in shock. "You want _what_?"

"I have to," Erik said, half leaning on the table. “Shaw keeps an eye on me and Candy is my only chance. I've been thinking about it for a long time, but there's only one other man in this prison who can help me.”

"You don't want to be in cell block C, believe me," Tucker whispered in awe, shaking his head. “And you say Shaw has an eye on you? What did he say to you?"

"Better ask me what he _did_ ," he pointed at his many injuries. “I have to get away from him. But since he's the director ... I have to distract him somehow. With someone who might be worth a lot more to him… or at least help me to influence Shaw.”

"That's ..." Tucker started, but stopped. He looked up and down with his eyes. “So you really want to go? Can't you contact Candy somehow from here?”

“Nobody knows who Candy is! I have to see him with my own eyes.”

“But cell block C is full of murder and death! Don't go there, bub, you'll go down! Maybe I can help you too!”

Tucker's worries were sweet. Just like the mouse he had made for him. Wanda was still laying in Erik's pocket. But even the sweetest gesture would not keep Erik from doing what he was about to do. The only person who could possibly convince him otherwise would have been Charles. But Erik would not let him in on for the time being.

“I can't ask Shaw to put me in cell block C. So, tell me: what do you have to do to get there?”

"Bub," Tucker began, sighing so loudly that it sounded almost painful.

"I'm serious. I need something, so Shaw doesn't have much of a choice but to put me there.”

Tucker seemed to be considering. He shook his head several times, tapping the table. Finally he jumped up, pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and stood at the window. When he opened it, an ice-cold wind came in. Erik immediately pulled Tucker's blanket off the bed and put it around his shoulders.

“I can't tell you how to get to C. The guys I know who were in block A before went all to B. They used to deal with drugs.”

Erik frowned. "What about murder?"

"Bub!" Tucker said Erik's nickname again, as if he were his mom. "You're exaggerating! I thought you wanna get out of here? Then you shouldn't commit any murders now. They'll never let you out like that!”

"They won't either way," Erik murmured, staring at his bandaged foot. Shaw would not let him go. And even if he called his boss to get him out, he'd be kept right away. After everything he had done. Self-defence or not. Erik had long stopped believing that he would be taken out of this shithole. “I knew what I was getting into when I came here. It's OK."

His friend looked at him with wide eyes. "What are you planning to do?"

"Thank you, Tucker," Erik finally sighed, smiling as best he could. "I'll find a way. No offense. I would also have liked to remain your cellmate. You're nice. One of the few here.”

Tucker would have liked to continue, but Erik broke off the subject. The goal was to avoid Shaw, so he better didn't throw his plans around in case they would reach him in the end.

In the evening, just before 8 p.m., Erik put the mouse Wanda aside, took the blue soap with him and went for a walk to the showers. As always, they were empty, but he didn't hear any water running. Still, he entered the shower room.

Nobody was there.

Erik sat down on the cold floor and closed his eyes. Time passed and he thought about everything that had happened before. The terrible as well as the beautiful things. He would probably stay in this prison, but what did he have to lose? Nothing was waiting for him out there. The truth was waiting in here.

When he got up again and started on his way back, he saw on a clock in the aisle that it was already 9 o'clock. The curfew had come a long time ago. The guards who saw him sneaking around in the hallways said nothing. Sometimes they even nodded to him.

Suddenly he saw a man come out of a heavy door. He looked like a mechanic. The door also clearly showed that it was a high-voltage room or boiler room. He literally stared at Erik. So he stopped.

The man with the black goatee opened the door again and nodded that Erik should go inside. Of course Erik just stared back and did nothing of the sort when a red head peeked out of the crack in the door.

"Erik," Dr. Darkholme whispered and beckoned him to come. Suddenly Erik recognized the man too. He had been with her before Erik's appointment at some time. They had met in the corridor.

He approached them with uncertain steps.

"Go in," the man finally said in a strange accent. "We don't have all day."

Erik was practically pushed into the dark room by the goatee guy who was locking the door tightly. Dr. Darkholme, however, switched on the light, which did not really illuminate the room.

"Hello, Erik, I'm sorry to have to attack you like this, but -" Dr. Darkholme said and was immediately interrupted by her friend.

“Quieter, there's exactly one camera above the door. I was able to cut its connection, but it will be restored shortly,” he whispered, pointing to both Erik and Dr. Darkholme advising that they should go a little further back to the machines. It was probably a boiler room. The devices buzzed quite loudly.

"This is Azazel," Dr. Darkholme introduced him. “He works here as a mechanic. He's a good friend of mine.”

Erik took a look at the devil guy, who looked like a sleek Frenchman with a black goatee and black hair, but probably came from the East.

"My name is Raven," said Erik's doctor suddenly, very emotionally. “I trust you, Erik. Do you trust me too?”

He wasn't quite sure what this was all about, but what did he have to lose? In any case, the lady had nothing to do with Shaw. And that was some value. So he nodded.

"Good," she pressed firmly from her lips. In general, she was very stressful. “We don't have a lot of time, but I need you to do something on this whole matter. My brother goes nuts! There's nothing I can do for him except hope you can make him see reason!”

Suddenly Erik was listening. "Brother…?"

"Charles is my little brother," she said, blinking so hard that her eyes began to shine in the dark room. "He's a good man, but since he's been here ... he's changed."

It took Erik a little moment to process what Raven had just said. “He is your brother? That explains a lot ... and yeah, the prison changes everyone.”

"You don't understand," she began, and Azazel interrupted her again to speak quieter. He stood at the door to keep watch. "I don't know where to start!"

“How about the beginning ... What is this all about? About Charles? About you? About me?"

"About all of us," she finally sighed, rubbing her red hair. “Charles didn’t want me to tell you, but… I have to, you see? I can only hope that you keep this information to yourself. Don't hurt him, yes? Help him!"

Erik raised his eyebrows. “What is it, Raven? Is Charles Candy? Is he in touch with Shaw?”

"What? No!” she immediately denied, shaking her head frantically.

“Then I have no reason to hurt Charles or to cheat on him. If you say I might be able to help him, tell me what's going on and I'll see what I can do.”

Erik wasn't sure how to help Charles when he was in a position to need help himself, but maybe it was about something that Erik could actually improve.

Raven was obviously gathering her thoughts as she waved her hands around the air as if she was trying to land some planes. “You mentioned the mafia and an undercover cop very often. Not just towards me, actually towards everyone here. It all started with that. With those stupid rumours!”

"Rumours? So there's nothing on it?”

"There is," she breathed, snuffling. The topic was very stressful for her. “About 9 months ago… my little brother got a call. They wanted him to go underground - under a false name, age, everything - and then go to prison. In this one. Because they believed that the mafia would do bad things here. Since Sebastian Shaw was a fake snake, they had to cover it up, you see? You really need to know him; if I didn't know better, I would say he is involved in it himself. But his vest is clean on the outside. As pure as it can be. Anyway, he makes everyone believe that.”

Erik's breath caught. Charles was -?

“So Charles is here. Has been nicked, voluntarily! Because he was a good agent. A very good one! We all trusted him to solve the case. People died in this prison; nobody knew why. After a month, the contact broke off suddenly. Nobody knew what had happened. He was just gone! We thought he was dead…”

Then Raven sobbed briefly.

"Thank God he wasn't ... He contacted us through Hank."

"Hank ... so you know him too?" Erik asked, although he could hardly find enough breath to speak.

"He's my boyfriend," Raven said, smiling shyly. “That was over half a year ago. Since then I have been in constant contact with him and ... well, it was love at first sight. But Charles ... He got into trouble with the people here. Brawls, all of that. Finally Shaw noticed him. And he grabbed Charles. Something has happened, we still don't know what. Charles doesn't like to talk about it. In any case, he was then moved from A to C. There the contact broke off. He was locked in an isolation cell for almost three weeks. I think that destroyed him.”

Three weeks in solitary confinement would probably have changed everyone. Especially after isolation had to be a real punishment. You were probably forced to live in your own piss and shit while being held on bread and water. Erik felt the urge to go to Charles. Hug him and apologize. For everything he had thrown at him. Because - shit - Charles was the cop he thought was lost! And he wasn't even a normal cop, he was an agent. Probably from the secret service. So the forklift thing was all a lie. Probably part of the wrong persona.

“Shaw must have seen through him. Or at least blackened him. Charles had to go into hiding. He dropped his fake name and accepted his real one; he had no other choice. He's been in cell block C since then and no one really knew what he was doing until I had had enough of the whole thing and applied to be a doctor here.”

"Shaw just hires his sister like that?" Erik asked, trying to process the information so far as quickly as possible.

"We're not blood relatives," Raven said, looking a little shamefully to the ground. “Charles had found me back then. Long story. Charles' surname is also different. That's why it worked.”

Erik sighed in surprise. "It's getting more and more complicated."

"I know," Raven said, raising her hands again. “It gets worse: Charles could have gone long ago, but he doesn't. He is so determined to solve the case that he stayed here voluntarily. He believes that he is very close to the Mafia. After solitary confinement, the dark side of the story began to develop: Charles started to murder. Erik - he started killing people!”

Erik could only nod wearily. The fact was already known to him.

“In the beginning I thought of self-protection. Which it probably had been. But then he became a real monster! Hank said that Charles partially practiced total psycho stunts so that other inmates could arrange things for him. Out of fear! They were all afraid of him. He was convinced that this was the only way to survive. So he kept on murdering ... God, there was no end to it at some point.”

"So even if he got out of here someday, he'd be brought back in," Erik said, feeling how similar he and Charles were suddenly.

Raven nodded and careful not to wipe her makeup. "He won't get out of here; he's convinced of that."

"So what can I do now?" Erik asked, feeling his abdominal pain return. He urgently needs to take his pills for the night.

“He's a fool for you. I can understand a bit why ... you are really attractive and have an iron will. You seem intelligent too. You remind me a lot of my brother. He is probably glad to have found a normal soul. Anyway… he thinks you're normal.”

"Well, I am," Erik said. "As normal as you can be here."

"Someone who murdered his ex-wife for revenge may not be normal, but I know what you mean," Raven sighed, scratching his wrist as if it were uncomfortable to talk about Erik's past. “Anyway, I think maybe Charles can change with you. I don't want him to drown in this prison, but this murder ... it has to stop.”

"If I tell you why he's been murdering lately, you wouldn't ask me for this favour."

Then she smiled weakly. “I know why he killed the men. He wanted to help you. That's why I'm telling you all of this! So that you be a bit more cautious! Just don't make him do it anymore!”

"It's easier said than done," whistled Erik. “Charles kills without my knowledge. I've already told him not to do it anymore, but unfortunately, he doesn't listen to me any more than he does to you. He thinks he has to do it to protect me.”

Raven's eyes grew dim. "You talked to him about it already?"

"Yes," he sighed. “The guy in the locker room? He didn't even touch me. I just wanted to get away from Shaw. Charles and I had a fight, so I did things my way. Wasn't the smartest idea, but what happened just happened. In the end, the guy died because Charles thought he had stabbed me. What he ultimately got from you.” he gestured to the floor. “Putting any allegations aside now. It was just a misunderstanding. But how he killed him was absolutely unnecessary.”

"Now can you please end this soon?" Azazel said, waving his hands. "I would like to avoid having anything to do without your killing committee."

Raven sniffled again and looked down to her feet. She deliberately shrugged her shoulders. “Okay, you both had an argument. I got that. Charles was sad, he barely ate anything and was purposely growing lonely over there in C. What’s your relationship with him? You seem to be very close… could you imagine to go back to – “

"That was my plan," Erik interrupted his doctor. "I'll go to him."

There was silence in the room for a brief moment. Erik spoke again.

“I just have to find a way to get into cell block C without Shaw being able to intervene. I just have to ... move. No other choice.”

"Then kill someone," Azazel said dryly, scratching his crotch. "Easiest way. This goes straight to the court or something and the office decrees that you need to be in a more guarded environment. That is C. Only there are guards twice as strong in their amount. Shaw has to send you there. Legal matter.”

"Very good," Erik nodded, thanking Azazel for the information.

"No way!" Raven intervened. “You can't just kill someone! Just so you can come to my brother!”

"How much is he worth to you?" Erik asked deliberately pointedly. “More than any criminal? Because for me he is worth more than any drug dealer or murderer. Fuck some guy here who has nothing in his mind anyway than to rape other guys. I will pick someone who deserves it, don’t worry.”

"That won't go well," breathed Raven anxiously, rubbing her arms.

"Either Shaw or Candy will get me, yes," Erik admitted, finally joining Azazel to indicate that they could go now. "But by the time I’d get to that point, I'm already over the mountain with Charles."

"Outbreak?" Azazel asked, raising both eyebrows. "Brave. The last one who wanted to break out was shot on the wall.”

“I have my ideas. One by one,” Erik murmured, and finally left the room with Azazel's help. Raven just stepped out cautiously and watched him leave until she finally disappeared into a dark corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're all okay in this time of corona invading our lives. Please stay safe and don't forget to wash your hands, loves ♥


	17. Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter:  
> \- Erik goes nuts (harassment, kind of abuse by the end of the chapter)  
> \- belittling language of a minority (albinos)  
> \- Shaw warning (sexual abuse, semen play)

It wasn’t difficult to find someone who deserved it. Tucker, the good gossip girl, knew almost everyone by heart, so Erik just had to ask him a few questions about strange characters to know whether it would be worth it or not. Of course, that also made Tucker ask questions at some point.

"You really want to pull it off?" he asked grimly, eating his lunch.

"I have no choice, Tucker," Erik replied. "Now that I was finally able to put some puzzle pieces together."

Erik couldn't wait to finally see Charles again. To see him, to hug him. Especially now that he knew who Charles really was. The past few days had been difficult enough. It was time to let some love flow again.

“Did you find anything? About ... well ... the mafia? The cop?”

"Yes, you could say that," Erik murmured thoughtfully, looking around the canteen. A blonde guy was sitting not far from them. Supposedly Nazi. Had fun killing gays and was one now. But continued to live his double standards because he believed that fucking someone was not as gay as being fucked. In addition, he had committed several violent crimes where he beat up women and children because they had foreign roots. If Erik couldn't stand a thing, it was guys who hid behind an ideology as if it were going to explain the world to them. Mainly also because he didn't like his face and how he dealt with the other prisoners. He was just about to sweep the tray off the table of another guy.

Erik got up and went over with a blank expression. He heard Tucker mumble nervously, but was not stopped by him either.

"Hey," he said to the blondie. “Was the food poisoned? Is that why you get rid of it?”

The guy turned around aggressively and immediately got up to offer Erik his chest. In fact, he reared up so far that Erik almost had his nose on his face.

"And who are you? Do you know the guy?” he asked aggressively, pointing to the inmate whose food he had thrown off the table. He sighed and picked it up from the floor and pushed it back onto his tray.

Erik eyed him. "No. I saw him once, but I don't really know him.”

"Then piss off, asshole," the albino man growled, pushing Erik back with a finger. He landed uncomfortably on his sprained leg.

“I'm assuming you don't know him either. In any case, your ignorance seems to be pervasive. You probably don't know who I am either,” Erik played the fear card that everyone in their hands held who had only vaguely dealt with Erik.

“No, shit, who are you supposed to be? Anyone's grandpa?”

 _Ouch_ , Erik thought, trying not to show that he was indeed a good deal older than the albino. "You can figure it out," he pointed to the blown tray. "Keep it up like this, and we'll get to know each other on more private terms."

The warning he'd given suggested that he would give the guy another chance to improve. Erik had already agreed that he would kill the villain as soon as the opportunity arose. It would have been stupid to murder someone in the canteen. The guards would probably shoot him down without much trial. He had learned that much.

On top of it, his wounds should heal a little more. He decided he wouldn't commit the murder that quickly. Enough time to make a plan.

Tucker made a long face when Erik sat down again. "You play with fire."

“I've burned myself enough times. I'm getting numb now,” Erik joked dryly and continued eating.

Just when Erik was proud of himself and half of his plan, something had to go wrong, of course. She stood there in the late afternoon. _Emma_. As always with two armed guards on the left and right.

"Fuck," Erik said, and he already felt all of his bones and muscles ache.

"If you would come with me, please," she said very politely, gesturing with a thin, white hand that Erik should follow her order.

What else was left for him to do? He had been on his way to Tucker's work when she surprised him in the hallway. Erik put his hands in his pocket and gave Wanda a firm squeeze until he finally went forward.

Shaw was in a bad mood when he greeted Erik. Of course, as always, there was the fake smile with lots of teeth and the open arms that he always showed him. But something in his eyes was annoyed. Almost stressed.

"Erik, Erik," he began ruefully as he sat in his chair and sent Emma out of the room. Erik was sitting on his slave chair with his hands clasped. "You are a very stubborn boy."

Erik hated when Shaw called him _boy_.

"No matter how far I throw you back into the sea, you always come back to the shore and pretend that you are not one of the many fish I look after."

It was probably the smartest to say nothing. Shaw took that as an incentive to keep talking.

“Your whole face is demolished, but you are still beautiful. The tapes look kind of fashionable, don't you think?”

 _No_.

“Unfortunately, I still don't know exactly what your ultimate goal is, but I'll find out. Because there are usually only two things that inspire a man like this: it is love or power. However you may interpret it, you can always break it down to those two motivations. Money? Is actually just a sign of power. Hoarding information? The power over another person. Deceive somebody? The power to decide for yourself who is worthy and who is not.”

Suddenly Shaw got up. Slowly, like a predator, he walked past the desk and towards Erik.

"You have no power, Erik. Not here. That’s all past now. Let go."

He sat on the edge. Erik stared past him as always.

“Or is it love? Is there someone you fight for? Or is it maybe both? Sometimes you surprise yourself, don't you?”

Erik wanted to ask what Shaw actually wanted from him when he got the answer in the form of a big hand around his neck. Shaw grabbed him and forced him deeper onto the chair. With his head leaning so far back that the back of the chair bored into Erik's back, he could hardly breathe while his tormentor squeezed with relish.

“I know you are going to murder someone here to get to cell block C. I don't know what you expect from it, because it's actually what nobody wants here. Believe me, I would send you there voluntarily - but go ahead. Kill someone. Make yourself punishable. That way I can keep you here much longer.”

His cigarette breath stank so nastily in Erik's nose that he tried to breathe through his mouth. If he could breathe at all.

“I wanted to make your life easier. But you didn't want to. So now you have to live with the consequences.”

With a violent swing he swept Erik off his chair. HE fell to the ground and landed on all fours. His leg and stab wound hurt. But the adrenaline helped him get up before Shaw could push him down again. Instead, he limped to the other side of the room. Shaw chased him as though he had all the time in the world.

“You can't escape from me. Not even in C. There they may have built their own anarchy, but it is my prison and I ultimately determine the rules. You play your games with the wrong people, Erik. They can't help you.”

Erik suspected Shaw meant Candy. Or Charles? No matter who Shaw meant, he seemed sure that Erik was off the hook.

"If I want to fuck you, I'll fuck you, Erik," Shaw scoffed one last time before pulling a gun out of his belt and aiming at Erik.

Erik stopped immediately.

"Get undressed. And lay with your torso on the desk,” Shaw ordered, pointing to the table. Erik knew he had to follow his orders. Otherwise he would probably have had a bullet in his head. _Self-defence_ might be the excuse Shaw would have said.

Erik went to his scaffold and lay down on the table top. Shaw was much more impatient than expected by almost forcibly tearing Erik's pants off before he could even take off his clothes by himself. You could hear him fiddling with a condom; never putting the weapon out of his hand. Finally, he squeezed his dick between Erik's buttocks and forced his way in. It hurt, especially without lubricant. But by now, Erik had to admit, he accepted every pain. His whole body was numb. He huffed several times to calm his body, which started to tremble. Shaw meanwhile moved inside him like a wild monkey and grunted like a pig. It didn't take long for him to come in the condom. The cold weapon had always been pressed against Erik's neck. Afraid that Shaw might accidentally pull the trigger, Erik made no wild movements or sounds that could have startled him.

It was over faster than he thought. Above all, less spectacular than the previous meetings. Shaw was probably somewhere else with his thoughts. Good for Erik.

But of course Shaw wouldn't have been Shaw if he hadn't forced Erik to drink the condom's contents. Shaw forcibly pressed himself to Erik with his entire body weight and held the condom to his mouth.

"Suck," he ordered, squeezing the sperm into Erik's throat. He swallowed as best he could. What should he do? Spit it back in his face?

Erik felt his inner calm shake. He wanted to take the gun from Shaw and shoot him with it. But before that, he would probably have cut off his dick and broken all his limbs until he shot him in his ugly face.

But none of this was possible without losing his own life. So he went out of the door with renewed pain in his body and was swept into the corridor by Emma, where he was on his own again.

Angry, disappointed with himself and perhaps loaded with some sexual energy, he stomped to the fence that led to C. He was staring at the complex, hoping Charles would look out. The chance that he would be seen was probably slim, but Erik didn't give up. He lit a cigarette and smoked it annoyed.

"If you can see me, Charles, for fuck’s sake," he swore like a sailor for the first time in weeks, "move your ass over here. I need to see you. And I want to kiss you And then I'll kill someone.”

Furious, he stomped the cigarette and finally went back to his cell, where he was sitting alone at the table, waiting for Tucker. He didn't come from work much later and noticed that the mood was very low. He approached the subject with caution.

"Are you all right, bub?"

"No," he grumbled, gently kicking the chair aside. "I was with Shaw again."

"Oh no," gasped Tucker, staring at his friend immediately. "Did he hurt you again?"

"Yes," Erik snorted, looking at Tucker. “He knew I was going to murder someone. I wonder how he knew that.”

Then Tucker went pale. "Do you think I told him anything?"

“You're a person I have to suspect, yes. But don’t worry. He knows, I'm not sure from whom, and I haven't been able to change it yet.” It might as well have been Raven or Azazel. No other people had been privy to it. So the leak had to be somewhere in that little circle. But Erik would have never thought any of the three people would be the leak in the boat. Whoever it was: Erik had to pay the price again.

"Bub, I would never say anything against you, believe me," Tucker assured his friend and Erik believed him to a certain extent. Tucker wouldn’t get any benefit out of it. But certainly, neither Azazel nor Raven as well.

"Maybe someone heard us," Erik muttered, wondering where he has been careless. But everything had either happened here in the cell or very briefly in the canteen. And there was nothing in the cell. Erik has searched every corner several times. To the last grain of dust. Probably also a legal matter, since they had a toilet in the room. That would change soon. In C there were probably no nice modern toilets in the room or nice things like a TV or magazines. But no matter what would come - he would be with Charles. And further away from Shaw.

Tucker was extremely quiet and careful the evening. He hardly dared to go to Erik anymore, which was understandable somewhat. He felt his adrenaline rise the later it got. After dinner, he packed up the soap and went to the showers at 8 p.m. with only a towel around his waist. Some of the inmates watched him with wide eyes. One group even whistled. But nobody touched him.

For good reason. Erik was angry. He could have just killed anyone who even looked at him crookedly.

Of course, as always, nobody was there. No Charles, no Hank. Erik violently hit the wall and was vexed in the empty shower until he finally sat under the water jet.

Emotions. So strange that Erik didn't even know where to put it. He had never felt anger so great. It had always been the only feeling that had accompanied him. But now ... now it felt strange.

Suddenly he heard footsteps behind him. Erik turned around in anticipation and wanted to take Charles right here and now on the floor when he saw the albino standing in the changing room. He stared at him with a wild look.

"What do you want?" Erik growled, annoyed that it wasn't Charles.

"You know that very well," he said, approaching Erik with wide eyes. He had nothing in his hand, nothing on his body. Just his uniform, which he quickly got rid of. He came up to Erik with a huge boner.

"Then it's a good thing you're there," Erik sighed, wondering why he was always attracting guys like those types. He had probably sent wrong signals in the morning. But he started to see it positively: the guy was there, they were alone, no guards and he would even get sex. Because if Erik wanted something besides killing someone, it was fucking someone really hard.

Shit, it should have been Charles, but then the albino-ass was supposed to serve. Slowly he adapted the prison mentality: fuck or get fucked. No matter who, no matter when. The main point was that the anger and frustration got an outlet.

The guy approached tensely and started kissing him inexperienced. When he started touching Erik's cock and pumping it, he became a bit more forcefully and shoved his tongue into his mouth.

But Erik was tired of being dominated by everyone. So he grabbed the albino by the shoulders, turned them both over, and threw his chest against the wall.

"You want to get to know me, right?" he asked harshly, wondering about his own unforgiving voice that sent a shiver down the spine of the albino. "Yeah?"

The guy whined a bit under Erik's hard grip when he finally nodded. The little Nazi must have suppressed some needs. If someone acted so strongly against homosexuals and made a difference between who was active and who was passive, they probably had some problems with themselves. Because when Erik rubbed his hard cock with the nice-smelling soap and finally shoved his dick into the albino’s hole, the albino groaned heartily and held on to the shower regulator.

"Oh, yes," he sighed happily and stretched out his butt to Erik. "Deeper!"

Erik kept ramming his cock into him until he found a good rhythm. It didn't feel as good as it did with Charles, but it was sex. And if Erik needed something now, it was a good deal of satisfaction. After everything that had happened the past few days, the pain he had to endure and the humiliations, it was finally time to take the reins in his own hand.

He grabbed the albino by the neck and pulled him towards him, forcing him to push through his back. "You're quite a fag, aren't you?" Erik whispered in his ear, biting deeply into his shoulder.

"Yes," the albino groaned, letting Erik take advantage of him completely. "Yes, I am! Fuck me harder!”

Erik took a swing and smacked once, then twice on the white bum. The albino was hardly able to hold on to himself and practically fucked himself on Erik's cock.

"So good!" he whined again and again through the empty shower and clung tightly to the shower regulator. "Your huge cock feels so good!"

Erik wanted to pull his tongue out first, but restrained himself. One after the other. First, he wanted to come. Delicious and slow. Then he could still take him apart.

"So that's your plan?" he suddenly heard Charles' disappointed voice from the entrance.

He stopped abruptly in his movements and looked startled at Charles, who stood palely in the locker room and was watching them.

"Charles," he breathed his lover's name and immediately withdrew from the guy. The albino complained and almost fell over. With a hasty step forward, Erik waved his hands. "Where have you been? You didn’t come here anymore and – “

"Because I wanted you to do this alone!" Charles began to get louder. His eyelids were red again and his hair was unwashed. “But then I was told you'd be planning something stupid again, so I came to stop you. But what do I see? Fucking an albino? Really? You like _that_?”

"Shit, who are you?" the albino gasped, covering his penis with both hands.

"Shut up," Erik said to him and turned back to Charles. “My plan is to come to you, okay? I just have to plan everything carefully, otherwise Shaw will be back on track; what he already is and – “

"You want to come to me? Erik, woe betide you!” Charles interrupted his friend and started pointing his friend. „Woe I see you in cell block C! You shouldn’t be there! Once you are there - you will never come out again!”

“I doesn’t matter where I am, I won't get out anyway! Do you think Shaw will let go of me?”

“I don't know, but at least you have a good environment here. Even if I think it's questionable what you're pulling off here,” he looked disgusted at the albino.

"Forget it, he's only a means to an end," grumbled Erik, waving it away.

"Excuse me, what?" the albino snapped back. "I'm leaving, that's too stupid for me!"

With that he reached for his things and wanted to go past Erik when he hit him hard in the face so that he immediately went down again. Charles looked in his direction, startled.

"What are you doing?" he asked angrily and took a step back.

"He's a means to an end, I said," Erik grumbled furiously, pointing annoyed at the albino writhing in pain. "I will kill him. And then I come to you. And then we'll discuss everything else.”

Charles’ gaze wandered between Erik and the albino who was still on the ground. He was bleeding profusely from his nose and mouth. The blow had been intense.

"No, Erik, please ..." Charles began much more gently. “I don't want to see you in this hell. Please don't go this way. At least listen to me once!”

"But I want to be with you," Erik replied just as sensitively. At least as best as he could in his effervesced state.

Charles looked like he didn't know what to say. In fact, he just stood there for seconds instead of doing something. So Erik just kept talking.

“When I'm in C, Shaw can't get me that easily anymore. It may be less beautiful there, but at right now I'm already living in hell. You see it yourself! Would you rather keep coming to see me at the infirmary at night?”

"No," Charles whispered, blinking on the floor. "But I don't want you to be like me either ..."

"I'm already like you," Erik said, and finally came closer to his friend. He carefully took his hands.

"Oh?" Charles murmured, looking up at Erik with big blue eyes. "How do you know who I am ..."

"I know everything," he said finally, his lips pressed together. "Just everything."

Charles's wrinkled look instantly relaxed. He looked up at Erik in horror. But before he could say anything, Erik heard the albino groan.

"Let me go, you psycho!" he snapped, trying to wriggle past the couple.

Erik sighed deeply, let go of Charles and had already made the decision that he would just kill the guy very quickly when Charles verbally intervened.

"Do not do it."

Both the albino and Erik remained in their movements. Charles looked at Erik sternly and waited for his friend to stop.

"Then maybe you want to go now," Erik suggested, leaning back against his lover to kiss him on the lips. "Go and we'll see each other over there soon."

"Woe," Charles began in a trembling voice. "I don’t want to see you there ..."

"Go now, babe, please," Erik used the nickname for his lover for the first time. The first tear flowed over Charles’ cheek when he finally turned away from the scene and stormed out of the shower. The heavy door opened and closed.

Now Erik and the albino were alone.

"Shall we go on?" Erik asked as if nothing had happened and grabbed his white arm to press the guy back against the wall.

"What? No! Shit, what just happened?! Was that your boyfriend?” he pinched, trying to fight back, but Erik was stronger. For a change, he had the upper hand.

"That was my boyfriend, yes," Erik said, smiling. "I think I fell in love with him."

"Good for you, fucking shit, but let me go!"

Erik was hard again. Not because he liked this stupid game, but because he had to think of Charles. His red lips, his soft skin and his trembling voice when he was angry. All of this now belonged to Erik and he felt prouder than he had in a long time.

So he enjoyed a good round of sex until he finally turned to his real plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this behaviour of Erik is very OOC and I apologise for that - and I can only hope you won't go nuts in the next chapter when you get to know what he did 😬  
> And the cherik content will increase in the next chapters!


	18. Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter:  
> \- mentioning of gruesome murder (Erik did it)

The night had been restless. His limbs ached and the stab wound throbbed. Maybe it was the bad dreams he had. And the uncertainty of what would happen.

In fact, it was like in the movie: security guards rushed into the cell in the early morning and grabbed Erik by his arms and legs to pull him off the bed. Tucker stood by the side, startled, watching the whole situation. They dragged Erik down the aisle and toward the administration. There he was locked in a plexiglass cell.

"Hands out," a guard ordered, holding handcuffs in front of the small hole in the door. Erik did as he was asked, and put his arms through. He immediately had handcuffs that he would probably keep on for a while. The guards left him alone again.

However, it took less than 10 minutes for Shaw, Emma and a few lawyers to appear. Followed by a lady wearing a chic uniform. One that Erik knew very well.

“I'm Lieutenant MacTaggert and I was called up for another murder in this prison that you are considered the prime suspect. Mr. Lehnsherr, I have to accuse you of murdering Tristan Schmidt. You will receive legal advice from my assistant, Detective Summer. You will then be taken to an interrogation room where you can deny or admit the crime. Everything else will then be explained to you. You will be held in solitary confinement until the court has decided on the charge. You are of course free to make a phone call to your lawyer.”

Erik nodded at everything the good lady told him. She looked very professional. Her straight brown bob showed how conservative she was.

"Did you understand everything?" Lieutenant MacTaggert asked, raising her left eyebrow. The air suddenly became very thick.

"Got it all," Erik said, and couldn't help but grin carefully.

Shaw looked worn out, even if he did everything to look casual. He probably didn't like the fact that Erik could actually do something in his own way. From now on, his sex bunny would no longer be easily picked up by Emma somewhere without everyone knowing.

"Well, my assistant will now give you the legal instructions." With that, everyone disappeared except for a young boy who was nervously standing in front of Erik. It must have been his first day. He patted everything on a small piece of paper he was holding. Erik listened to him in good conscience and finally nodded kindly.

"Did you really kill the man?" he finally asked furtively, blinking in awe.

Erik managed to smile. "I did."

"Wow," the young man breathed, eyeing Erik up and down. "That'll get you in trouble, won't it?"

"A lot, yes," he said, looking at Lieutenant MacTaggert with a sigh. “Tell her I'm sorry and that I had no choice. She'll understand somehow.”

The hearing was as uncomfortable as possible. MacTaggert asked Shaw to leave the room in between to be able to speak to Erik on her own, but Shaw denied her request. After all, it was his prison and his inmate. He had a right to know what was going on.

"So you killed the man?" she asked again, watching Detective Summers write everything down.

"Yes," Erik nodded again, and was getting annoyed by the interrogation. The bureaucracy to get in had been heavy, but now that he was in there, the bureaucracy never stopped.

"Erik," she began to say strictly his name, knowing that it had crossed a certain limit, which naturally made Shaw curious. “You didn't just kill the man, you cut off his penis and put it in his anus. When we removed the penis, we found sperm, which probably came from you. DNA results will follow, but our guess is likely to be confirmed.”

"With great certainty," Erik said smugly and would have liked to roll his legs over. But like his hands, they were chained to the metal table.

“You also wrote on the wall with his blood _‘I'm a gay Nazi who likes it from behind’_. What went through your head when you did that?”

MacTaggert was absolutely shocked by Erik's actions. And when she summed it up that way, Erik also felt a little bad. But when he chopped the penis with a plastic knife from of the canteen (which had been came in handy for so many times), heard the screams, and finally watched him bleed out, he found it wasteful to just see all the blood running down the spout. So he used it to write another important message to posterity.

"Certainly, I have to practice my writing and the saying is probably not the best, but I was only telling the truth," Erik said, shrugging his shoulders. “The man was a bad Nazi. He harassed and abused women and children. And murdered gays. He also harassed our nice in-house gays. You have to make a point somewhere.”

"You should regret your crime, Erik," Shaw said, looking stubbornly in his direction. "And don't pretend to be Robin Hood of this prison."

"Mm," Erik grumbled, clearing his throat loudly. He didn't have the leisure or the energy to mess with Shaw now, even if he wanted to.

He was next. So much was certain.

"Very well," Lieutenant MacTaggert sighed. “You admitted the crime, it makes the process easier. The whole thing will of course still be brought before the judge and you are still entitled to a lawyer. But you will still be transferred. Right, Mr. Shaw?”

He nodded with a pained smile and looked at Erik very carefully.

“We'll have to test you psychologically too, Erik. You don't look… very stable at the moment,” Lieutenant MacTaggert remarked, raising her eyebrows as if she regretted the whole thing enormously.

"That's okay," Erik said, trying to smile again.

"One more thing, pure curiosity," she started, but has already got up. “Where did you get all the injuries from? Was there a fight?”

"No," Erik replied, looking smugly at Shaw, who also got up and gave him a warning look. "I just picked the wrong Sugar Daddy."

MacTaggert blinked at him in confusion, but said nothing more and left the room with Detective Summers. Shaw paused a moment and stared at Erik. But instead of saying a few words about the situation, he just walked out the door. If it had been a warning, it had surprisingly been a very mild one.

A guard untied him and led him out of the room.

“Your things will be collected during the day and brought to your new cell. Meanwhile, we ask you to be patient,” the man said more politely than expected, pointing to the glass cell Erik had been put in earlier this morning. Erik thanked him respectfully as well and let the man take off his handcuffs.

Erik spent more time in his little glass cell than expected. He felt like the villain from these superhero films at some point. But before he could come up with a cool name for himself - and of course for Charles - two guards came to his glass cell. One of them was carrying a cardboard box with probably Erik's things in it.

"Mr. Lehnsherr, hands please" the man said, the one without the cardboard box, and handcuffed Erik again. An enormous contrast program to previous precautionary measures. Until so far, Erik had been able to move freely without any handcuffs - from now on, he would probably have to wear them anywhere and anytime.

Together they went through the different locks. Doors opened and closed. The front door only opened when the rear door was closed. There was at least one guard at each lock, and even two at others. Erik tried to remember where they were and where they were going. Because of all the locks, which somehow all looked the same, he became lost. It was only when they were suddenly near the laundry that Erik knew where they were. Finally at the entrance of cell block C.

When he entered the first, very small hallway of block C, he immediately noticed the unpleasant smell. A mixture of faeces and sweat. Male sweat in particular, which stank much worse than normal sweat because of certain amounts of testosterone. Guys with tattoos and almost no hair sat in their cells, which were all equipped with large plexiglass panes. There was no privacy here. No fancy toilets either. Just a porcelain bowl that resembled Shaw's terrible bidet.

When Erik walked past the whole cell with handcuffs, he noticed that there were only a few cells with more than one person in it.

"A lot of solitary confinement," he remarked as casually as possible, while most inmates stared at him stupidly.

“Avoids trouble. There are scheduled stroll times. So plan your dates beforehand,” the machine-gun guy murmured, chewing gum.

They slowly reached the end of the aisle. After that, only the guards' offices and showers came. And apparently fresh air cells. It was probably no longer possible to go out.

"Here, this is your cell," a guard announced, stopping at an empty cell. “You will remain alone until the trial and psychological report. You're not supposed to kill someone right away.”

Erik just smiled wearily. They opened his cell and shooed him in. The box with his things was carefully placed next to his metal bed. There was only a thin mattress and blanket on it. Toilet paper was on the floor next to the toilet. A sink without a mirror right next to it. Shaving would be a challenge from now on. All of this should have made Erik sad, but when he turned around to have the handcuffs removed through the small crack in his plexiglass door, he saw _him_. Right across from him.

Charles.

In a grey rift, like everyone else, but with more hair on his head than any of the inmates together. His blue eyes were wide open and Erik couldn't tell if he was happy, shocked or even angry. Because his micro-expressions seemed to change from second to second. Not that Erik was ever good at noticing them.

“Food is taken in the cell. There's fresh air for half an hour a day, so we have to see when we can schedule you. Shower times for you are from 4 p.m. to 5 p.m. with cells 13-18. You will get to know each other then,” one of the guards explained and closed the small door for the handcuffs. Relatively large holes in the windows made it possible to talk to the outside. And get some fresh air. As far as you could call it fresh.

“There are walks from 1pm to 3pm. But only in this block and under observation. Should be obvious. No sharp objects, no drugs, no alcohol. Cigarettes from vending machines on request.”

The guy kept talking about some rules, but Erik's attention was already on Charles, who didn't stop staring at him from his cell. He just stood there. Alone. In his solitary cell. And stared at Erik. They were only separated by two plexiglass panes and maybe five meters. Not more.

"Got it all?" the guy asked again, as if he didn't give a shit whether Erik had understood everything or not. But he nodded like the good boy he was and even smiled.

"Got everything."

"Good, then behave and we'll see you again for dinner. Shower is cancelled for you today. You can go again tomorrow. Oh yes and your appointment with the doctor is sometime tomorrow, I think. You still had an appointment for a change of your bandages. She wanted to come here for that. But you’ll be informed.”

Erik nodded and was already very excited to see what the mood would be like if the two siblings met with Erik around.

When the guards finally left, he had a clear view of Charles. He pressed his lips together and slowly shook his head.

"I can't believe you're here," he said so loudly that Erik could understand him well. Here and there you could hear other men talking. Essentially, however, it was very quiet in cell block C. Erik had imagined it to be different. More like ... Sodom and Gomorrah.

"I told you I would come to you," Erik said, not ashamed to admit his affection so loudly to everyone else. With such a small number of prisoners, they couldn't keep their relationship secret for a long time. Because Erik knew one thing: As soon as their doors opened, he would be over there.

Charles smiled sarcastically. "And? Is it how you imagined it to be?”

"Not quite. I admit,” he sighed, looking around. "Not much privacy."

"And more rules," Charles added sternly, finally folding his arms. He seemed to be struggling with himself. Finally, he asked: "How did you kill him?"

Erik raised both eyebrows. "Hasn't it been brought to you yet?"

Charles drew his lips in a straight line. Apparently not. Or he was pissed that Erik had mentioned so loudly that Charles had spies. Or whatever it looked like it was about to burst.

"I sawed off his dick and put it in his ass while he was bleeding out," Erik said, as he didn't really remember the situation anymore. As if he had been in another body.

"Are you proud of yourself?" Charles asked snappily. He blinked again several times as if trying to hold back tears.

"Guess the same amount of proud that you are of your murders." Erik shrugged his shoulders, leaving the interpretation open.

Charles, on the other hand, had little humour for this, snorted in disbelief and turned away. He stomped to his bed, which looked a lot cosier than Erik’s, and read a magazine he picked up from the floor.

That was probably a clear _"I'm angry with you and give you the silent treatment"._

At 6:00 p.m., a guard came with a tray and pushed it through a small crack on the side of the cell. It looked like the food from the canteen, except that there was little space for special wishes. You had to take what you got. Erik poked lazily in his food. Charles probably felt the same way, too, because he only ate a few bites until he put it aside again. But it was interesting to see how Charles acted in everyday life. Erik still couldn't believe that he was finally near him.

The trays were picked up again at 7 p.m. Then there was probably a shift change. The previous guards went to their office while new guards came. They talked briefly and then waved goodbye. That was when Erik saw Hank for the first time going to Charles' cell and talking to him. So subdued that even Erik didn't understand a word. It was only when Charles sighed in annoyance and nodded to Erik that Hank turned and was startled.

"Shit," he probably said far too loudly.

"Hi Hank," grinned Erik, even waving to him while he was still sitting on his bed. "Haven’t seen each other for a long time."

"Why -" he started, but Charles cut him off.

"No idea. Just let me talk to him briefly.”

Hank sighed and looked around. Finally he waved to a colleague who happened to go to his office. The night watchmen were the easy guys apparently. Because other inmates suddenly began to leave their cell.

Even Erik's cell opened.

"Is that permitted?" he asked carefully, looking around immediately. Cameras. _What would Shaw say?_

"They don't work," Charles replied to the unasked question and walked casually out of his cell. He gently stroked Hank's arm and nodded gratefully. “And no, it's not permitted. But my nightly visits to you weren't either. And I did it anyway, right?”

"You did," Erik murmured in love, and was about to walk up to Charles to hug him tightly, when his lover pushed him back into his cell.

He got a strong slap in the face. It wasn't too firm, but it hurt and echoed horribly in the empty cell.

"You're a selfish, stubborn, and stupid man!" Charles began to scold like an old wife. “I wanted to know you on the other side safely and now you are here! I cannot believe it! At your own request! How can you wish for something like that?”

Erik started to counterattack, but stopped when he saw Charles' angry face.

“You complained to me that I had murdered someone completely senseless, right? The stupid albino - he died completely in vain! If you wanted to get in here, you simply had to tell Shaw some stupid story!”

"Like how I used to be a cop?" Erik grinned, admitting that he found the situation almost a bit funny. Or, as always, he misjudged the situation.

"Shut up, Erik!" Charles hissed, snuffling, since his nose started to run. "We'll talk about that later!"

His eyes went to Hank, who was still standing like a deer in the spotlight next to Erik's cell, watching them both. But then he shook his head wildly and raised both hands when he understood the accusation in the room.

What a strong guard the good hank was.

"I have things to do now, but when I come back, we'll talk!" Charles threatened with a raised index finger, aggressively tapping Erik's chest.

"I'd love to," he said quietly, stroking Charles's arm and watched him pull his hand away as if it were burned. "I will be here."

He leaned forward and kissed Charles lovingly but decisively on the lips.

With a loud smack, Charles parted from his lover and trudged away.

Hank and Erik both watched him disappear into the fresh air cell. A few other guys had been waiting for him and eventually followed. Some looked twice as big as Charles. And yet they followed. Erik had to smile.

"I wonder how long he's going to be mad at me," he murmured, actually more to himself than to Hank, but he got an answer anyway.

"He's no longer angry, I think," he said, shrugging his shoulders. “If he's really angry, you'd feel it in the form of severed fingers or something. This behaviour right now? It was more of a ... _‘I can't be too happy, otherwise I will lose my credibility’_ or something.”

That made Erik grin even wider. "Sounds like him."

"Still," Hank whispered, moving closer to Erik's cell, "you shouldn't have done that. Now you're as caught as Charles. It's going to be hard to give you both special status at the same time.”

"Don't worry, Hank, we're not going to get you into trouble," Erik tried to calm the big guard. "Now I'm here. This ends a big hurdle. I just have to talk to Charles in peace. If he agrees with everything, we will let you know. But only as much as necessary so that if we fail, you won't be in charge.”

Hank's eyes widened. He came closer again and looked at Erik very carefully. "What are you up to?"

"You'll find out then."

Erik used the time Charles was not there to examine his lover’s cell. He had a thick blanket, a pillow with flowers on it, and even a small shelf to store towels, bathrobes, and his soap on. Quite open, visible to everyone. Charles actually seemed to have made himself. From a normal occupant to block C boss.

But whom he completely missed was Candy's presence. Even when he walked through the two small corridors that were connected in the middle, he saw only normal occupants. Their cells were bare. Sparsely furnished. Here and there someone had better bedding or a Euro pallet desk, but nobody seemed to live in real luxury. So Candy seemed to put a lot of emphasis on immersion.

Erik was slowly beginning to feel that Shawn Candy might not even exist. But where did the rumours come from? And the terrible deeds? Someone must have done it.

A little disappointed, Erik went back to his cell. Charles came back in between, talked to other inmates and pulled a straight face. He seemed focused and Erik was wondering what it was about. He heard a few scraps here and there. It was about trading, about cigarettes and other things like keeping cave and bribery. Quite a bit of illegal stuff for a former agent, but then again: who, if not an agent, would know so well about such things straight away.

Just when Erik pondered what Charles had been like as a normal agent, he was standing at his cell. It was now half past nine.

"Do you have time?" he asked politely, if a little stubbornly.

Erik got up from his bed and looked around his empty cell. There were two books in the box, Wanda and his personal hygiene products. "You're lucky, I'm not up to anything right now."

"Put your ass in the shower," he grumbled, annoyed by the bad joke, and grabbed a black bathrobe from his shelf. When he saw Erik go out with just a towel, he grumbled in annoyance and grabbed the red bathrobe to throw it at Erik.

"Come on," he sighed, and went ahead.

The shower was very small, Erik counted eight showers. There was no changing room. Just a bench to put your towel on. In general, the tiles also looked a bit shabby. The shower systems without regulator. Only on or off.

"I see why you preferred to take a shower in block A," Erik murmured, looking around the bare room that didn't really invite one to stay in there any longer as necessary.

“You understand that? But not the rest of it?” Charles choked immediately and began to undress. "You should have stayed there!"

"There was nothing but trouble waiting for me."

'The trouble you started yourself! And do you really think it'll be easier here?”

Erik rolled his eyes and undressed too. "Are you sure you want to argue now?"

Annoyed, Charles walked past him, hit the shower, and stood under it. A few splashes on Erik's leg immediately told him that the water wasn't nearly as warm as in block A.

"No, come here," mumbled his lover, holding out his arms. His eyes were still narrow, but Erik sensed that it was pure defiance. He was sulking and it was kind of cute.

So he came closer to Charles with his arms also open and hugged him tightly. He stroked his hair and back. The shower was just warm enough that it was not uncomfortable. But they wouldn't stay for long either.

"I'm glad you're okay," Charles whispered softly. Almost so quiet that Erik would have missed it if he hadn't been 100% focused on Charles. "Shaw should pay for it."

"He should," Erik said, kissing Charles' hair. "And he will."

“Before you tell me your absolutely awesome, probably suicidal plan - let's get the fronts clear. What do you really know?” Charles asked a little louder, pulling a bit away from Erik to look him in the eye. "And who told you all of that?"

"Your good sister," Erik admitted, smiling as best as he could. “She is a really lovely lady who was only worried about you. She hoped I could help you. Or at least make the situation less bad. She said how you suffered from the fact that things had changed between us. She asked me to change it back.”

Charles' eyes widened, but he didn't seem particularly surprised. “She is crazy. She should never have come here…”

"If my brother just disappeared into a prison and made it look like he was dead, I think I would get involved at some point too," defended Erik Raven's motives as best he could.

"You protect her?"

Erik stroked Charles's wet skin and finally reached for the blue soap. “She trusted me. I don't want to stab her in the back now. It was good that she told me.”

Charles let himself be lathered up like a doll, eyeing Erik's face. Finally he leaned forward and gave him a gentle kiss. “Nobody here knows who I used to be. Only Hank. Please keep that to yourself. It took a lot of work, time and nerves to live a somewhat normal life here. „

"Normal? You're quite a boss here in C,” Erik joked, lovingly soaping up his friend.

"It was only with this respect - and perhaps also fear - that I could survive so long," breathed Charles, and finally began to lather Erik. He circled over his chest several times. “What exactly do you know? So I can add missing information.”

"About you?" Erik asked his boyfriend, stroking his clean-shaven cheek. He himself was growing a decent 10-day beard. “Mostly things about your past. Who you were. Why you are here. And why you ended up faking your own death.”

“I didn't fake it. I really almost bit the dust,” snorted Charles. "Things just went wrong."

“What exactly went wrong? Where was the mistake?” Erik asked and stroked Charles' hair.

But his boyfriend just sighed and looked away at the floor. He seemed to be deep in thoughts. Finally, he shook his head in silence and washed the shampoo out of his hair. “Let's not talk about it here. Let's go to my cell for that.”

After Erik couldn't get used to the temperature of the water anyway, he accepted the suggestion with thanks. "Good idea."

They washed themselves very routinely, while two other guys actually came into the shower as well. Charles ignored them and just got dressed. Erik was closely watched, but he too was left alone.

Finally the lights in the cell block went out. By 10 o'clock. Only the emergency lighting showed the way back to the cells and to the exits, which were guarded by men despite the loose regulation. Charles nodded past Hank and went into his cell. Erik just followed him.

“I'm surprised that the cameras don't work. And everyone can walk around here so easily,” Erik remarked dryly, putting his towel in his cell while he kept the red bathrobe on. He and Charles were still naked underneath.

"It was a long way to get this through," murmured Charles, sitting on his bed. He looked promptly in Erik's direction. "Come over. I want to talk."

Erik would have preferred to have sex, but had to realize that there were more rules in block C. Including those of Charles. So he bowed to his friend's command and crossed the room to Charles' bed. There he sat down with a little distance to him. It was far too dark, but the light from the emergency lights at least helped to recognize Charles' face.

“Say who I was so I know we're talking about the same thing. Take it as precaution,” Charles began, turning to Erik by tucking his leg under the other. His bathrobe opened slightly.

Erik put his arms on his feet. “You were an agent. You came here for mafia activities. Something went wrong. You've been sitting ever since.”

Charles' blue eyes were unusually dull. His jawbone moved under his skin. "Okay," he breathed, finally looking down. "Are you disappointed? That I was one of them?”

"One of them?" Erik repeated, frowning. "You mean one of the good guys?"

"Yes," Charles confirmed his assumption. He looked up again. “The first instinct of my so-called 'friends' from cell block B was to cut me open when they found out that I was actually working for the government undercover. So forgive me for not quite believing that you don't want the same thing.”

Erik pressed his lips together. “Good thing they didn't cut you open. Otherwise we would never have known each other.”

That made Charles laugh bitterly. “Yeah, sine then I’m the first one who slits open throats. You know how things are going on here. Eat or be eaten."

“How did it get out? That you're actually undercover here?”

Charles sighted and looked at the wall again. “I thought I was up to something. My cell cellmate was like Tucker, you know? Kind. Helpful. Kind of a friend. We didn't have sex, it was just platonic love, I would almost say. And when I was convinced that I had a lead, I needed some help. So I told him who I was. And that I needed him. That he would benefit from it and that maybe I could get him out sooner once it was all over. You know? As a small incentive to really help me.”

Yes, Erik understood that immediately. It had also been Erik's thought. It still was, but he could already guess where Charles' story would lead. He stayed silent while Charles continued to speak. “His person changed instantly. He started insulting me. To beat me. Called me a cheater. And a few days later he wanted to kill me in the shower with a handful of other men. Good for me that they were all pretty stupid. And generally acted clumsily. Otherwise I would surely be dead now.”

Erik had already gotten to know Charles's melee skills. So narrow and yet so dangerous.

“Of course, six dead men didn't pass Shaw unnoticed. So he called me over to him.”

"Did he take you down to the basement?" Erik asked, actually not wanting to hear the answer.

"No," Charles suddenly smiled sadly and turned back to Erik. “But he wanted to rape me in his office. In return, he would have dropped the charge and declared it suicide.”

Oh, Erik was familiar with this offer. "But you didn't do it."

"Certainly not," Charles growled, looking away again. “I fought back as best as I could. Finally I could keep him away from me by drilling a pen through his shoulder.”

Erik's eyes widened. "Oh ..." was all he said. Now he loved Charles even more.

“The guards came in and I thought it was over. Instead, they dragged me to cell block C, where they probably hoped I would be eaten alive. In fact, it wasn't easy for me. But with the help of a few inmates, I was able to survive. I let my undercover name die and adopted my real name instead. So officially you won't find me in Shaw's file.”

" Shaw doesn't know you're still here?"

"I honestly don't know," Charles sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “I avoid cameras as much as possible. I had the ones in cell block C switched off. So Shaw doesn't see what's going on here. He once had a technician come, but we were able to bribe him several times for declaring the cameras to be junk. Shaw has been living with the fact that he doesn't really have control over C. I don't know why ... But he allows it.”

Erik tried to link the dots together. Meanwhile, Charles pulled both legs up to his chest. Like a little child who wasn't comfortable.

“I grew my hair. Before that, I was bald, like pretty much everyone else here. Maybe that helped, too,” he mused, looking at the ceiling. “Of course, Hank and my sister helped me too. The occasional murders assisted that new inmates also respected me. But all those who came too close to the fire died.”

"Fire?" Erik asked, laying a leg on the bed as well.

"The mafia businesses," Charles murmured, looking back into the distance. “Whenever I got close enough to them through middlemen, they died. They were often misinterpreted as candy murders.”

“Speaking of Candy: where's Candy? Or rather, who's Candy?” Erik finally asked the question he had been aiming for all along.

"A myth," Charles whispered, suddenly shaking his head. “He doesn't exist. Or at least not as a person.”

Erik felt the disappointment rise.

“Every time I thought I exposed Candy, the guy died. Or did something that totally disqualified him from being Candy. Still, these murders happen. Nevertheless, someone spreads fear and terror here. But this one man who allegedly desecrated children and kills his ex-boyfriends doesn't exist.”

"Shit," Erik grumbled, and finally leaned against the cold wall that separated Charles' cell from the others. "That changes a lot ..."

“Does it? You have me, I protect you from any so-called Candy murders. I have always done so and I will continue to do so,” Charles said. “You're weird, Erik. But you always were from the very beginning. Alexithymia might do that to people. But your interest in the mafia story ... in Candy ... and in me,” he suddenly looked intensely in his direction, “makes me wonder. It can't be pure affection, can it? Or pure interest in the thing itself.”

Erik felt his pulse speed up. But on the outside, he remained calm as always. It was time to come out with the truth. Even though he had vowed not to tell anyone about it, he felt that he could trust Charles. "You're right."

"Then maybe you want to explain to me what's going on?" Charles began to get a little more restless. “You now know who I am. You know everything. You could kill me right away and you wouldn't even have to bend a finger. The rumour mill would do that for you. It would just be nice," he swallowed hard, "if you trusted me too."

Charles' hands trembled a little while holding his legs to his chest. Erik had sworn he would rather die than tell the truth, but he never expected to find the missing cop. Who wasn't a cop at all, but even a secret service agent. And who was extremely handsome. Plus intelligent. And charming. And strong.

Erik had expected everything, but not that he would find the missing agent and fall in love with him.

"The story of your boss and the forklift," Erik began quietly, rubbing his lips briefly, "was a lie, wasn't it?"

Charles frowned. His furrows were stronger than usual in the dim light. "Yes. That was part of the undercover story. I needed something to be put in jail.”

There was absolute silence for a moment. Even the quiet conversations of the other inmates suddenly stopped. The world seemed to stand still.

"I was never married," Erik began softly. “I didn't even have a relationship. No one cheated on me. I didn't kill anyone. And I wasn't a train driver.”

Charles' eyes widened. He was holding his breath.

"It was all part of a big lie to get here." Erik would have liked to look elsewhere, but felt that Charles would disappear as soon as he took his eyes off him. “The mafia businesses didn't stop. They got worse. Infested an entire city. Something is produced and distributed from here. Money laundering too. However, you didn't get any information. And the only one who was here was supposedly dead. Or missing. That was you. What a coincidence…”

Erik smiled for a moment. Charles still said nothing, but stared at his friend in horror. Finally, Erik struggled through and took a deep breath.

"I'm here for the same reason as you."


	19. The Right One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter:  
> \- none :-)

It should have been like every other day, but when Erik entered his office and saw the pink post-it stuck to his screen, he felt the first changes in the air wobble.

"You wanted to see me," he began to speak monotonously as he stood at the glass door to his boss's office. Criminal Investigation Commissioner Moira MacTaggert of the Department of Serious and Organized Crime sat tense at her desk. "Come in, Erik," she said sternly, pointing to the place in front of her desk. "And close the door."

Erik did as he was asked and kept calm. As always. The indifference was cut across his face.

“I brought you in on the drug-related offenses a few months ago. How are things going?”

"Slow," Erik admitted, pushing his hands between his legs. „No matter which way we go, it ends in nothing. A dealer who knows nothing, a consumer who supposedly knows too much.”

MacTaggert frowned. “We have to stay tuned. That's why I started a new program and it got approved this morning.”

Then Erik became alert.

“And we believe you are the perfect man for it. But we'll discuss that later at 10 a.m. in the meeting room with the chief and the others from your team.”

The bad feeling grew stronger, but Erik tried to ignore it. When he finally entered the meeting room and most of them looked at him with a self-pitying look, he was convinced that he would be fired.

After he sat down, the chief started his long speech. “As you know, not only are we interested in the activities in the state prison, but now also the public prosecutor. Apparently, the penitentiary is actually dealing with the increasing number of drug-related offenses in recent months. Apart from money laundering. Now it turns out that a previous undercover program went wrong.”

"What happened?" Erik asked, although he was only marginally interested. He was much more concerned with the fact that he was being informed as if he had suddenly become head of an entire department.

"We don't know," MacTaggert said. “We don't really know anything. That is the bad thing. All details are kept secret. The man didn't seem to have done his job well, otherwise they wouldn't be lying to us out of shame.”

“It is important that there are probably direct connections to the prison. The drugs are controlled from there. East criminals seem to be playing along. Probably Russians or criminals from Ukraine. Hungary is also possible,” the chief spoke again. “We have to get the information ourselves. The state is on our side. After the failed action, however, they were not very willing to give us money for it.”

"But what we have received is enough to start our infiltration program," MacTaggert added proudly. Erik felt like he was sitting in the middle of a pile of needles. The air became extremely stuffy.

"We need someone to go back to prison and go inside," the chief added. Erik's colleagues all remained silent and looked at the table top or outside. As if the matter was none of their business. “Someone without a story. Without family. Someone we can rewrite well. We cannot build a fake personality; we do not have the resources for that. After all, it has to be waterproof."

"I -" Erik started, but was immediately interrupted by his boss.

“You, Erik, are one of those. I know you are struggling with an illness, but this is what makes the whole thing attractive. You would never act as emotionally as anyone else. A cool head will surely be needed once you're in prison.”

“Of course we will make sure that you are treated well.“

"Your story is already written," MacTaggert said, pushing Erik a thick envelope. “You will be a married man who killed his wife because of a fraud. You will then be brought in due to death. The prosecutor has already agreed to change your file if the prison director Mr. Shaw has a right of access.”

The chief scratched his fat belly. “You will be well paid, Mr. Lehnsherr. Double salary in time plus four million subsidies from the state.”

"Of course, you can retire immediately after the assignment," said MacTaggert. "You deserve it."

Erik said nothing but flipped through the file listlessly.

“The program is designed for three months. Whatever you find out during this time does not affect the length of your stay. We'll get you out after exactly three months.”

“You have until the end of the week to think about the offer. However, we would advise you to accept the program. You are our best option. And you surely want the drugs to finally disappear from the scene, like we do.”

"Everyone wants this, Erik," said MacTaggert, leaning forward to look Erik in the eye. “Read the file carefully. You don't have to memorize much because we want to rule out the possibility of you being exposed due to memory lapses. We take out the information that you once worked for us. Everything else is retained and is only replaced by other information. Like your wife's name. How long you were married. And when you committed the murder.”

Erik closed the file and looked up. The eyes of the chief and his boss were hopeful.

"We're counting on you, Erik."

The mission was far too dangerous. In the evening Erik researched on the Internet whether he could find out anything about the program, but found nothing. If a policeman who had been prepared for it for a long time failed - why should a normal criminal policeman suddenly be successful? Erik was a normal man who started an apprenticeship after school and had a degree on it. He was trained, he learned what was given to him and he did what was asked of him. But this program went a little too far.

But when he sat on his little sofa and drank his beer while staring at the television that was turned off, he kept thinking about the offer. Eventually he reached for the thick file again and went through everything meticulously. Over and over again.

The scientific part of his curiosity always wanted to know what happened to the bad guys if they were caught. Common sense, however, forbade any idea or will to go anywhere near such a facility.

Erik drank another three beers and finally stared out of the window. A warm summer night that he could have spent outside with friends. But he was alone.

Because he had no real friends. No one got along with him for long. After all, he was emotionally blind - every normal thinking person was driven mad at some point. The constant indifference, the constant misjudgement of situations and emotions and the constant coolness that he radiated.

His parents were dead.

No friends.

No girlfriend.

No family.

_He was perfect for the job._

And the more he thought about the bizarre situation in the morning, the more he realized that his boss had already gave up on him. If he did not take the job, he would certainly be transferred to another city. Or right into the administration. Where he would just sort files. And at the next opportunity he would have been fired. Because even in the office he was not necessarily a popular colleague or employee, even if he always did everything to do his job well. But if you weren't a cracker at parties, had no bad jokes up your sleeve so the fat colleague next door could laugh about, and were more of a quiet wallflower anyway, you could already submit your resignation in such a social profession.

In the past, Erik just wanted to help people.

So what did he have to lose? The money didn't motivate him. The prospect of early retirement neither. But being right in the middle of the investigation. That was something.

Erik went back to his boring office job the next day and threw the files in front of his boss on her desk.

"I'll do it," he said with little enthusiasm and put his hands in his pockets. "Will I have a middleman in prison?"

MacTaggert looked at him annoyed, but also proud. "No. That would be too noticeable.”

"Then how do I get in touch if something goes wrong?"

Of course she fell silent when asked. When nothing came after several seconds, Erik nodded.

"Hence the good pay," he murmured, gritting his jaw. "It's basically a suicide mission."

“I think you are qualified enough to successfully complete the program. I am very confident that you can delight us with information.”

Erik sighed again at her choice of words. "You are very optimistic that a normal detective can solve what a previous colleague could not do."

“I have great faith in you. You are not led by emotions like we are. You are guided by rationality. In the past, your decisions were always very mundane, but correct in nature. So I am convinced that you can survive in an environment in which a normal person is extremely irritated. Because of your illness. Whereby I would not use the word. More _talent_.”

Erik snorted softly. “I wouldn't call it that. It only has disadvantages.”

"Not in this case," she said decisively, standing up. “Please prepare. You can leave your personal belongings in your apartment. A company will take care of your belongings. Do you have pets?"

Erik shook his head.

"Well, then it's just plants and occasional cleaning."

"I don't have any plants either."

MacTaggert's eyes were on Erik for a while. She was probably wondering why she had hired such a freak back then. Erik's grades and recommendations had probably been decisive. “You will receive more detailed information in the next few weeks. You will probably be taken to prison around November. The murder of your wife took place around October. The court put you in custody for so long. We'll take care of everything else.”

The bad feeling spread to Erik's stomach region. But he ignored it and did what needed to be done.

“Please note that you must not say anything to anyone. Neither this program, nor the previous program. This is a top-secret operation.” MacTaggert's eyes suddenly grew cold. "Stay strong. If necessary, act like the other inmates. Be stupid if you are cross-examined. They'll try to break you. Break them first. You know the training. But you have to keep one thing in mind: This is not a letter of conduct for immunity from the law. If you act in self-defence, we can defend you at any time before a court.”

She took a few steps towards Erik and didn't stop until their toes touched.

“However, kill someone for whatever reason; out of revenge, out of anger or because a gang persuaded you to do it, there is nothing we can do for you. You will stay there. As a real prisoner.”

Erik nodded slowly as if he understood. But the real consequences remained unclear to him in the end. _Why should he kill someone?_

“Behave like them. But don't _be_ like them.”

Ultimately, Erik had to sign a lot of waivers. The trial was then filed in October. He actually had to go to the judicial building a few times and talk to the judge. Many papers were signed, and more papers were filed and read. Finally, Erik gave up his key and got four million in his bank account. However, when he also gave up his freedom and was picked up from the hotel by the police one morning, he was only given handcuffs and contemptuous looks. Suddenly Erik no longer knew who was informed and who was not.

Who of the people around him could he trust and who not?

It looked like a social experiment that Erik was thrown into. Because when he got out of the car and went behind the security gates of the big building, it suddenly became clear to him what he had done: If he was fired or even accused of a murder he had never committed, he could stay here forever.

So who could he really trust? MacTaggert? The chief? Or nobody at all? Suddenly he questioned everything and panicked.

When they took all the things off Erik and put him in a grey rift, he smelled freedom for the last time. Then the gates closed behind him and he wondered how others had gotten into the prison.

There were basically two ways to go to jail: it was you. Or you were just unlucky.

Even in Erik's case it was probably the second option.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a very short chapter, but as you can see, I really try to upload a new chapter every day! :-))


	20. In Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter:  
> \- none :-)

Charles jumped from the bed.

"Excuse me, _what_?!" he shouted angrily, staggering back a few steps. "Are you kidding me?"

Erik also rose slowly from the bed. “I wish it was a joke. But no. Lieutenant MacTaggert sent me here to investigate the Mafia trail. And possibly looking for you. I knew nothing else. Everything here," he looked at his numerous wounds on the body, "changed me. I really thought I was going in and out as if nothing had ever happened. But now I see the whole thing with different eyes.”

"With the eyes of a madman," Charles still breathed in horror and ran a hand through his still damp hair. “Fucking shit… you're so stupid! You had been out of here in three months?! ”

Erik just shrugged his shoulders. "They told me that, but whether it was true ... I doubt it."

“Well, under no circumstances will they let you out now! You publicly confessed to murder!”

"And you? What about you, Samaritan?” Erik snapped, feeling his pulse speed up. Whenever he was dealing with Charles, everything seemed to get excited in him. His emotional blindness seemed to fade from minute to minute. Or he just imagined it. “You have more people on your head than some inmates can count here. Are we really back on accusations? Then you can grab your own nose!”

"I just can't believe a detective was murdering so cold-blooded because he just wanted to move to another cell block!" Charles cried, turning red.

Erik clenched his fists. “Says the agent who is no better! How many were there? And to be honest, how many of them were really self-defence?”

Charles suddenly came up to him with great strides and poked him again with his index finger on the chest. “You have no idea what I went through! I didn't have a block C fuck buddy that regularly saved my ass! I didn't have a nice doctor who patched me up! And I haven't had a guard as a friend for a long time who has closed both eyes on some things! I had to fight for it - what did you do for your place?”

"You've never been in that basement," Erik growled in a dangerously deep voice as he reared up in front of Charles. “This is not a competition who suffered the most! Stop judging me and I'll do the same.”

“It is not a competition because it is obvious that you spit on me from your high platform, although I helped you! All the time! I shouldn’t never have told them to thrown ketchup at you - God, what a mistake!” Charles shouted, stamping angrily on the floor.

"You instigated Antonio and his gang to throw ketchup at me?" Erik repeated, just to be sure.

Charles, who had previously run across the room with a wild mane, turned abruptly and stomped back to Erik. "Yes! Because you look damn good! And yes, damn me - I had fun here while selling cigarettes and paying men for smuggling! Yes, I slept with a lot of men here; a lot more than I killed! And yes, I made some murders look like Candy’s so I was off the hook! And yes, maybe I felt a glimpse of power again after so long! You know what it's like, don't you? These constant orders from above, the degrading looks and the lack of respect with these hypocritical ass crawlers! I bet the criminal investigation department is not that different.”

Charles screamed so much his face began to become blue. He bumped Erik's chest several times, causing him to stumble backwards.

“And yes, I used Antonio to get you! How else would you have gotten into the shitty shower? I never intended to kill him, but when I saw him how he dealt with you, I wanted you to be mine! Because yes - I wanted to fuck you, damn it! Just like that, quick and uncomplicated! But now I see that nothing is uncomplicated with you! Everything turns into agony!”

Erik finally pushed Charles away, who was getting chest pain from this regular thrusting. "You poor man! You just wanted to fuck me! And I'll make it an emotional number! The guy with emotional blindness! Of all people!”

Charles opened his mouth in indignation, but said nothing.

"Who is the one who interprets so much into everything?" Erik continued, feeling his pulse pulsing all over his body. “You were always the one who lost it or wanted more! If it had been up to me, we would never have had sex, the whole dilemma would never have happened and we would go our own way!”

"Fuck you, Erik!" Charles shouted angrily. "Then why are you here when you regret it?"

"You know why!" Erik grumbled, pushing Charles again. “Fuck me yourself, you coward! Finally do what you've been working on all the time! Just like what everyone seems to want here!”

Erik didn't know what he was saying. The whole argument with Charles about sex made him horny. Another thing that he discovered in himself and that he had never known before that it even existed. Earlier sex experiences sometimes actually suffered from his potency and he had already feared that he would have been asexual. But this - shit, that's what he needed.

Love. Danger. Anger. Uncertainty. All the emotions that he has always lacked otherwise.

Charles actually hesitated for a moment, but then came up to Erik as if he were going to conquer a monster. He ran up to him, knocked both of them down and slammed Erik on the small bed. They scratched, bit, and hit each other until the mood suddenly turned and Charles started kissing Erik wildly. Rapidly they ripped off their bathrobes and Erik felt again a tremendous pleasure in a long time. It had been too long since he had Charles with him; so close and so intense.

Charles was already climbing into Erik's lap when he pushed him away. He looked up in confusion.

"I mean it, as I said it," Erik started out of breath, pressing Charles on the mattress. "Just fuck me."

The otherwise self-assured blue eyes showed pure uncertainty for a moment until they followed Erik's movements as he tried to put Charles' cock in his mouth to passionately suck him.

"You are insane," Charles whispered, also out of breath, but grasped Erik's hair with relish and pressed him to his stiff member. "But I guess I am too."

After a few moments when Erik soaked Charles' dick as best he could, he was pressed on his back and finally grabbed by Charles. He spat generously into his hand and spread the saliva around Erik's entrance, which willingly spread his legs.

It was still extremely unfamiliar to pose like this for a man, but Erik was willing to do anything to forget the horrible pictures of Shaw and his agony cellar. Charles was his friend - his lover - his equally dark other-half. He would stop if Erik didn't want something. He would never hurt him either. At least not malicious.

"Do it," Erik said impatiently to his friend, who was slowly bending over him. An intense French kiss followed until Charles finally carefully pressed himself into Erik. It hurt and Erik had to moan softly into the kiss to give the pain an outlet.

But after a few arranging movements, it actually felt fine. The abundance in his stomach was completely different from what he had known before. Nonetheless, Charles was not gentle. Quite the contrary: he picked up speed and pressed Erik's knee onto the mattress next to his head. Bent in half, he took him hard and pushed violently into Erik.

"Fuck!" escaped him as Charles fucked him. "You animal!"

"Say _more slowly_ and I'll hit you in the face," Charles growled, breathless and strained. Suddenly he pulled back to turn Erik over. He pressed him on his stomach with his face into the mattress. It smelled of Charles. Erik liked that. But that his butt started to hurt a lot, less.

But he didn't think of asking Charles to stop. It excited him to a certain extent how his lover was behind him, groaning on the back of his neck and little drops of sweat slowly forming on his arm. Hot kisses on the back followed, which became more and more uncoordinated the longer Erik was fucked in bed. Finally, Charles grabbed Erik's neck and squeezed. He only gagged him slightly, but it was enough for Erik to slowly see stars.

"Babe," groaned Charles wistfully, and pushed hard again into him until he came. The feeling was strange for Erik. He felt it get hot. Then cold. Because Charles pulled out of him and distanced himself from his back. He felt two hands turn him over so that he was lying on his back. Charles was sitting between his legs and sweating from the effort.

"You're even hard," his lover said in astonishment, trying to find his breath again.

Erik was just unable to find suitable words, so he remained silent and tried to find enough air himself. The stars in his field of vision went away slowly. He watched Charles squeeze the last drops out of his cock and spread them in his hand. The wet hand went back to his butt while his other hand caught some sperm that flowed from Erik's butt.

He spread it generously over Erik's stiff member. He climbed somewhat awkwardly on Erik, who needed a few moments to understand what his friend was up to. Ultimately, he helped him by grabbing his thighs and lifting him onto his lap. His penis slid into Charles easily.

"Oh shit," he whispered, leaning his wet forehead on Charles's damp shoulder. Charles began to move slowly. "Oh, fuck ..."

It probably didn't take a minute for Erik to come too. Charles hadn't even started moving properly. But there was no time for shame. Erik enjoyed the intense orgasm and that he was allowed to come in this warm environment that was Charles.

Both held tightly themselves in their arms for several moments, until Charles finally pulled away from Erik's firm grip. Still out of breath, he leaned against the cold wall and stretched his exhausted legs away. Slight red streaks had formed on his thighs. Erik's grip had probably been tighter than expected.

For that he felt his own butt burn. In particular, his wound on the stomach hurt him. Raven would surely scold him. Hopefully the threads were still on. Erik didn't dare to look.

They did not speak for a while until it was quiet around them. There was hardly any noise. Voices could be heard here and there, but only very quietly. Otherwise cell block C seemed to be sleeping.

"It's so quiet here," Erik whispered almost tonelessly, looking stubbornly at the other wall. Like Charles, he was leaning on the bed, stretching out all of his fours.

"That was a long way, too," Charles muttered in response. Both felt drained, but happy.

Yes, _luck_. That was what Erik felt.

He reached carefully next to him and squeezed Charles' warm hand firmly in his. Both were sweating and it would probably have been wise for them to take a shower again, but Erik's legs hurt so much that he probably wouldn't take a step until the sun rose. But it didn't matter whether or not it worked out. There were no windows or daylight in the cells. The world could go under and no one in C would notice.

"I didn't mean things like that," Charles finally murmured, running his thumb over Erik’s. “We are both not fine people, I guess. But it was what gave me hope about myself for a long time. That I'm not like them. That I'm still the good guy who'll solve the crime.” He suddenly looked down. "I had become a crime myself."

“You are part of it. Like me. Like everyone here. Prison doesn't always give you a choice,” added Erik, as if he'd eaten wisdom with spoons. But he didn't want to argue again. And in the end, it was how he said it: Who had a choice here? Eat or be eaten.

Charles finally turned his head to his boyfriend. “I can try to get you to my cell. Then we have more time together. And if you want, you can help me a little. At ... well, you know. In my day job that makes sure everyone here plays by the rules.”

"I don't mean to stay here for any longer," Erik grumbled without looking back at Charles. "But sharing a cell sounds like a good thing for now."

Suddenly Charles sat up. With wide but incredulous eyes, he looked at Erik. “You are not staying here? What are you up to? You _will_ have to stay here. You can't just go back to A. Besides, you didn't want to stay there anyway. Even B is just as inaccessible as A. Shaw won't allow it. Unless it promises him more visits to his basement - maybe then. But that's exactly why you're away from A, isn't it? So that Shaw can't just get you to himself?”

"He can do that here too, let's be honest," Erik admitted, sitting up. However, he didn't let go of Charles' hand. Finally, he made eye contact. “If Candy doesn't exist - at least not as a person - it's basically just Shaw doing the questionable work here. I saw chocolate on his desk that had Cyrillic characters. We have been told that the Mafia has to do with Eastern Europeans. So what if he's the one doing all the business here?”

Charles froze for a moment and said nothing. So Erik kept talking.

“When I got here, I really thought Candy was the bad guy pulling all the strings here. As powerful as everyone seems to think of him around here, it just had to be the guy with the most respect. But with every step I take on Candy, I move away from the real myth and get closer to Shaw. So something is wrong here. I suspect Shaw is the real deal. Which director would otherwise tolerate so much? The fact that he raped inmates is a reason for dismissal. He is abusing power.”

“He's been doing this for a long time. But who would you rather believe as state authority? A convict or a prison director? Even if you went to your boss as a former police officer to tell her about it, he would label you as insane. You know, like you've imagined everything,” Charles said, raising his eyebrows. “However, I don't understand what that has to do with the statement that you don't want to stay here. If Shaw really is the one who pulls the strings here, you won't be able to get him. Nobody can get to him.”

"I can get to him at any time," Erik mused, allowing the scene from the basement to come back to his mind for a brief moment. “I know the escape routes. I know his basement. I know his cameras and where microphones are. If we cleverly employ it, we can infiltrate his administration. I think he has the records somewhere in the basement. Because no office has surely discovered it yet. So there must be some evidence, too.”

“You wanna ... break in at Shaw? How are you going to do that?” Charles asked incredulously, shaking his head. “Even if we did it at night when some of the watchpoints were unoccupied, we would never get to his office unnoticed. Because that is also guarded with machine guns at night.”

Erik shook his head. "No, my plan is different."

Charles grumbled in annoyance. "Then tell it to me!"

“So you're in? No matter what it'll be?” Erik asked hopefully, squeezing his hand a little harder.

“I know it's going to be a suicide mission. But yes - I'm in. It’s probably better than rot in here. If we die, we can at least drag Shaw and the other pigs to hell with us.”

Erik smiled contentedly. It felt good not to be alone anymore. “I'll tell you everything in quietly tomorrow. Now I want to snuggle up to you and wake up next to you in the morning.”

"That won't work, cuddly bear, Hank has to lock the cells at four o'clock before the change of guard comes," Charles said sarcastically, but Erik sensed that he was not averse to the idea either.

"Then until four o'clock," Erik hummed contentedly and started pulling the blanket out from under them. He kissed Charles' shoulder with relish until he caressed his neck. Together they lay under the warm blanket and snuggled up to each other.

As Charles stroked Erik's head, which lay on his chest, he seemed to be sentimental. “If this mission is really going to be our last, it’s okay. I'm glad I met you. Even if it might have made things a bit easier, when we would have never met. But what would the prospect have been? I would have just kept going. Until someone killed me. Which I thought would happen much sooner.” He paused; but continued to stroke Erik's copper locks. “I even thought when I met you that you will be my end. That you would kill me. Because I was too forgiving with you. I basically trusted you from the first moment. That would have been a big mistake in many other situations. After all, you could have betrayed me easily.” Charles chuckled softly. “But it looks like you're both a blessing and a curse. And that's okay. I regret nothing. I'm glad you're here with me.”

Erik chuckled while keeping his eyes closed. "Was that an indirect _I love you_?"

"It was an indirect _go to hell_ ," Charles murmured, tugging a few hairs.

But after less than two seconds the tugging stopped and the gentle stroking continued. Erik contentedly let air out of his lungs and hugged Charles a bit more.

"I know it might sound unbelievable from the mouth of an emotionally blind person, but I think I fell in love with you, Charles," Erik whispered softly.

Suddenly Charles' heartbeat became faster. Erik could almost hear it while lying on his chest.

"It really sounds unbelievable," Charles said in an equally low whisper, but Erik could hear the smile in his voice. "But I think I fell in love with you too."


	21. Freedom so Close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter:  
> \- none :-)

The plan was really simple: they had to get Shaw's little dirty secrets and present them to MacTaggert in the right moment. Shaw would be fired and Charles and Erik could quietly live in cell block A. Or something like that.

But it wasn't as easy as it sounded. Someone had to voluntarily go back to the lion's den and it was definitely not Charles who had to go to the basement. But without help, Erik would just get to know Shaw's BDSM preferences again without really finding out anything. So at the beginning of the plan was bribe. For a very special tall man.

"I don't know Oscar," Charles admitted as they sat in a small common room during the normal go-out times. There was even a window here. With thick bars in front of it. "Who is that?"

"Shaw's watchdog while you play sex games with him," Erik said grimly, playing with Wanda in his hand. The guards talked to each other and left the prisoners alone. Other inmates also talked, played cards, or simply read a book. "He's the one who gives you the anal shower or a towel while you're posing for Shaw."

"Disgusting," Charles spat, scratching his upper arm as he looked uncomfortably to the side. "It hurts me to hear what he did to you."

"It's okay," Erik sighed and took Charles' hand in his. “I was to blame. Could have listened to you too.”

“Your thirst for knowledge was greater than your reason. You made the wrong decisions.”

That brought a smile to Erik’s face. "Where does suddenly the great understanding come from?"

"I understand you better now, Erik," Charles murmured, looking deeply into his eyes. “Why you did those things. And why you said those things. It all makes sense now. But if you want to hear an apology from me, I have to disappoint you. You won't get it.”

"I don't expect that," Erik grinned, leaning forward on the small table to kiss Charles on the lips.

"Hey!" a guard said from the edge of the room. “No smooching in the common room!“

Erik raised his hand apologetically, but didn't let go of Charles' finger. After all, holding hands was allowed.

"So I have to inquire after Oscar" Charles whispered, nudging playfully at Wanda a few times. “Surely someone here saw him. After all, he has to enter the building anyway.”

"If we get him, that's half the battle," Erik said, watching Charles turn the little stuffed mouse in his hand. “He won't be able to save me from Shaw's great sex fantasies, but he can keep me in the basement for a while once it's over. Shaw will probably disappear sooner and leave me alone with Oscar. That would be my chance.”

“What can I do in this plan? I don't want you to go back to the torture cellar,” Charles murmured, looking intently at his friend. "What if he beats you up again?"

"Then so be it. I'm willing to take that risk if we get him like that,” he sighed. “Even if he has nothing to do with the mafia and doesn't do any crooked business, I want him to never mistreat anyone like that again. Because I think I'm not the only one. And wouldn't be the last either.”

Charles nodded. "I don't think so either."

They both stroked their hands for a while until they let go and went back to their cells. On the way there, Charles reported that he asked Hank if he could unite the cells. A union would probably already take place tomorrow, since the psychological report would be given in the afternoon. Interestingly, Raven also wanted to come over to change the bandage at the same time.

"Will she do the psychological report too?" Erik mused, leaning against the wall as Charles went into his cell.

"Probably. She has kind of an impact there,” Charles grinned, seeming extremely proud of his sister, although he still couldn't approve of her working in prison at all.

With separate cells it was not so easy to communicate with each other. Erik read a little, pressed Wanda in his hand here and there, and stared over at Charles, who often just sat on his bed and leafed through magazines. Basically, he seemed to be a very calm person, which Erik really appreciated. Because sometimes silence was worth a thousand words.

In the afternoon, Raven suddenly stood in front of his cell. Her red hair was loose and slightly wavy. She looked good. More rested. Only two days had passed when she was begging at Erik's side. In a strange boiler room. With an equally strange mechanic.

"Hello, Erik," she greeted him, clearing her throat a little. She showed no reaction to Charles, who, apart from a short glance, showed no sign of recognition of his sister standing in the corridor. "How are you?"

"I’m fine," he said, getting up from the bed. The plexiglass still separated the two. “The wounds heal pretty well. Only my leg still hurts and the stab wound.”

“I'll take a closer look at everything. We're going to a treatment room for that.”

A guard who had accompanied Raven opened the cell after Erik was handcuffed again. Together the three of them went into a small treatment room next to the guards' office, which looked more like a small coffee break room. Only the typical couch suggested it was the treatment room.

With a polite nod, Raven asked the guard to wait outside. The man actually disappeared and closed the door. Raven, surprisingly, kept her polite facade.

"If you would take off your shirt, please?" she asked, pointing to the treatment table. "As good as it’s possible with the handcuffs."

Erik did as he was asked and undressed. The shirt hung in the middle of the chain of his handcuffs. Otherwise he was almost undressed.

"The wounds look good," she said, eyeing the areas. “I think I can finally pull the strings. There will still be a few left, however, but they will dissolve on their own.”

With a small hook, she began to work on Erik's stomach. One stitch at a time was opened.

"Will you do my psychological report, too?" Erik asked quietly, watching Raven's focused gaze.

She nodded silently as she continued to work.

"Good," Erik breathed, leaning back to stare at the ceiling. He saw a small black bump on a corner. Probably a camera. Or a mic. Did they work? Or were they dead too? Better not take a risk. After all, he didn't want to drag Raven into anything.

After about ten minutes, Erik was bandaged again and the threads were pulled. He was given another small pack of pain relievers if he needed any. When he got dressed, Raven noticed small red spots on the back of his neck.

"What did you do?" she murmured, inspecting the dark marks. "Are these…"

"Yes," Erik said before she could say the word "hickey". "Not hurtful. They’re freshly made though."

Raven took her hand away and stared at Erik for a while. Her eyes looked questionable, but it didn't take three seconds before she put the pieces of the puzzle together. With an understanding nod, she let go of Erik.

For the psychological report, they sat in the common room, where they were basically alone, since no walking was allowed for the other inmates. Only here and there was someone brought into the fresh air cell.

“I'm going to ask you a few questions that test your general accountability. Afterwards I will also ask you to solve some small tasks for me. There are no right or wrong answers here. However, please respond as spontaneously as possible. Basically, this conversation is voluntary, which means we can stop and interrupt at any time. However, we would have to start again at a later date.”

Erik nodded and remained seated at the table. The three guards around him didn't make the whole thing very anonymous or private, but Raven would rock that.

Ultimately, the questions were a joke and Erik remembered the police reports. They were about as easy to manipulate as this. Whoever had a spark of reason could lie like a trooper. Ultimately, Raven ended the session after less than 25 minutes and closed her folder. She nodded politely and tried to smile. The way she pressed her lips together, she seemed to hope that no one else had noticed how faked the whole thing had been. Erik was not mentally ill, but denying _"using violence because you are convinced of the correctness"_ had been a lie.

Erik very much felt the use of violence rightful if he was convinced, he was doing something good. Especially with people who deserve it.

“I will evaluate the data and send it to the responsible office. Your position is changed accordingly or not. You will receive more information over the next two weeks.”

Erik politely thanked Raven and let her go. Finally, two guards brought Erik back to his cell. Charles had been on the bed all the time, not making a sound like he didn't care. However, Erik assumed that his ears had listened even more closely to their conversation.

In the evening, when the shift changed and the doors opened, both Erik and Charles stormed out of their cells and kissed lovingly in the hallway. Hank was standing next to them, but only cleared his throat uncomfortably and looked aside.

“I'm going to go to the others and ask if anyone knows an Oscar. You are welcome to come with me if you want. Then I'll introduce you,” Charles suggested, smiling gently as he pointed to the group of men who were patiently waiting at the fresh air cells.

Erik eyed the strange guys. “You are welcome to introduce me tomorrow. Today I want to go through C a bit. I have to take a closer look at the building. Maybe Hank would like to come with me?”

The dear guard immediately got big eyes and stuttered a few bits of words until he nodded resignedly. “Y-yes, sure. Why not…?"

"All right," Charles said contentedly, patting Hank on the shoulder. "We'll meet here in about an hour."

With that he went his way. Hank stopped by Erik and probably didn't quite know where to go.

"Come on, I want to ask you a few things. And I have a little request for you,” Erik began, and started walking. When they slowly reached the end of cell block C and hadn't said a word yet, he pointed to a locked door, which was not a gate. "Where does this path lead to?"

Hank straightened his glasses on his nose. 'To the laundry. Where we once met. On the grid.”

"Are there cameras?"

"Yes."

"Is there an exit behind the laundry?"

Hank thought for a moment. “Yes, but only the laundry cars are allowed to pass through. A thermal imager shows whether someone is in the car. Should you have thought of… well… getting in there.”

“No, no, I didn't think about that. That would be too easy, wouldn't it?” Erik laughed a little over the top and knocked Hank in the side. “I just want to check out all possible routes. That's all."

“So you really want to break out? It will be impossible ...”

"It's going to be difficult, but not impossible," Erik murmured, examining the door more closely.

"What does Charles say about it?"

"Oh, he doesn't know about it yet," he replied, ignoring Hank while inspecting the room any further. "Are you coming in through that door?"

“Charles doesn't know about your breakout plan? I thought you were going to inform him!” Hank said angrily, but already pulling out the transponder to open the door.

"I have. He knows about a plan. I tell him about the outbreak plan when everything is regulated so far. I don't want him to start worrying too much. He tends to do that, you know.”

"With good reason," Hank growled, and finally unlocked the laundry door. Behind it was a normal room with several containers with laundry in it.

"Antonio and his two bodyguards were found here, right?" Erik asked, inspecting the room a little more closely.

"Yeah ..." Hank sighed and put his hands in his pockets.

"Did you help him?" He smiled and turned to the guard. Without waiting for an answer, he assumed the obvious. “Very nice of you. Many thanks from me at this point.”

“Please don't thank me for something so terrible. I just opened the door for him. His lackeys did the rest.”

Erik nodded with interest and ran a hand over the containers. "Good. That's all."

So they went out again.

"Was that the favour?" Hank asked curiously and put the transponder away. Erik, however, shook his head.

“No, sorry, not really. The favour is yet to come.”

Hank slit his eyes. He became suspicious.

“I want you to bring a note to my former roommate. Is that possible? Nothing special. Just a little message from me to him. Because I had to go so suddenly.”

"Now? Or sometime?”

"Sometime in the next 24 hours, if possible," Erik specified his request. Hank didn't seem to like running errands for others, but he nodded silently and held his hand open. Erik looked into his empty palm and smiled furtively. “I have to write it first. So far I haven't had a chance to get a pen and a piece of paper.”

Hank sighed loudly and rolled his eyes. "I'll bring it over to you later."

When Erik and he came back, he also saw Charles coming out of the fresh air cells. Behind him a crowd of men chatting wildly. His lover approached him with an iron look.

“Oscar is apparently an external. But he regularly eats in the canteen with the other employees. One from B is fucking with the cook. His ex is sitting here. The two always have small dinner parties after the regular meal times. He can possibly arrange something. A meeting or whatever.”

Erik was again amazed at what Charles found out. "Very good. We just have to convince him to help us.”

“How do you want to do it? Money?” Hank added, looking between the two men with wide, startled eyes.

"What else?" Erik asked gravely. “I have enough on my account. He'll have to tell us his price, but I'm sure we have what he wants. Everything's probably better than wiping other men's butts.”

After writing a small message to Tucker and handing it over to Hank, Erik joined Charles for the rest of the night, who already invited him to his bed with open arms. They made love for a while, until both were exhausted lying under the covers. Charles snuggled into Erik's shoulder and stroked his skin gently.

"Are you sure you want to go back to the basement?" he asked quietly after the rest of the cell block had gone silent.

"No, absolutely not," Erik sighed, enjoying the gentle touch. "But it's a sacrifice I’ willing to make when Shaw is finally in his own prison for what he has done."

“Everyone hates him here. Another inmate said earlier that he was also molested. But Shaw must have deported him quickly.”

“How did he do that? Convinced him to let him go?”

Charles let out some air from his nose. “He admitted crying every time right after they had done it. That must have annoyed Shaw. In addition, he urinated a lot out of fear. Didn't seem to have turned Shaw on either.”

"Strange. Here I thought, Shaw is pretty much into pee."

Charles's lips tightened in disgust. "Don't tell me that when we're in bed."

Erik chuckled softly. "Sorry."

Charles sighed again, finally kissed Erik on the lips and stroked his forehead. "It’s nice that we actually made it from the shower to a bed."

“It would be nice if it were a real bed someday. With a thick mattress. A decent blanket and a pillow or two. And even if I maybe have a little exhibitionist fetish, it would be nice if we had more privacy at some point.”

"Don't get too picky now, will you?" Charles laughed, kissing Erik on the lips again. "We have us. That has to be enough for now.”

Erik stroked Charles' smooth cheeks. And wondered how he would look with a beard. "If we could start a life outside ... Without any connection to the old. What would you do?"

Charles' eyes widened briefly. Then he seemed to be thinking about it. "What would I do ..." he repeated, searching the cell with his eyes as if to give him an answer. "I think I'm pretty good at running a company," he laughed softly. "So why not become independent?"

"How about running your own soap business?" Erik said with a laugh.

"Yes, why not? Generally, fragrances. I miss perfume. The stench here is so disgusting,” he complained, wrinkling his nose. “I prefer people who smell good. You always smelled good, babe. It was probably one of the reasons why I trusted you so quickly. People with a certain level of hygiene cannot be that bad.”

"Have you ever seen American Psycho?"

"You know what I mean," Charles giggled, closing his eyes. "And you? What would you do?"

Erik felt the tiredness rise in his bones. He thought about his plan. Shaw's end. Their freedom. About Charles in the warm sun on a lake or beach. A pleasant breeze. Soft kisses in the water.

"Move far away," he replied, taking a deep breath, as if he could already breathe in the scent. “And maybe open a bar. Somewhere where it's warm. Together with you."

"You make people drunk and I sell my shampoos to them," said Charles, amused at the idea. But Erik just nodded.

"Yes exactly. That is the plan."

And he could already smell freedom. It was so close.


	22. Rats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter:  
> \- selfharm  
> \- mild bloodplay

Erik woke up when he heard voices. Charles was still in his arms and slept soundly. But hell seemed to have broken out around them. The lights came on and all cells were closed. Erik and Charles were now locked in together. Hank was nowhere to be seen. Only other guards ran through the corridors, suddenly shouting at each other and seemed agitated.

Charles then woke up too. "Shit, what's going on?"

"I don't know," Erik replied quietly, watching the men walk around in front of their cell. "But something seems to have happened."

Both stayed in bed and waited for the action. Finally Hank came over. Charles quickly jumped to the glass door. "Hank! Hank, what happened?!”

He seemed to be taken by complete surprise when he saw Charles. As if he had just been in another world. "A new body," he breathed, stepping away. “Right at the entrance of C.“

"Shit," Charles said. "Who is it?"

“I don't know, I have to go on now. I'll tell you tonight!”

He disappeared from their view again. Erik came out of bed slowly and joined his friend. “A new body? I thought this was the norm here.”

"It is," Charles said dryly, but his face was more concerned than his voice. “But so close to C? Rather in remote places like the canteen or laundry. Or on the square. Somewhere where you can be undisturbed. There are four guards at the entrance to C. How could one avoid them?”

“Maybe someone else has a good influence here. Just like you?"

That made Charles's eyebrows go up. "Maybe it was a Candy murder."

"I thought the guy didn't exist?" Erik asked, crossing his arms.

“He doesn't exist in the form you hoped he would. There is no Shawn Candy here in C, but there are enough people who act on his behalf. And yes, before you give me another sermon - I've also done that. To protect myself.”

Erik pressed his lips together. Loud voices came from the end of the corridor, where the body appeared to have been recovered. All of block C was suddenly in turmoil. Guards tried to calm the rest of the inmates. What Erik missed completely, however, was an alarm. “So it remains to be seen who was killed. Maybe one can draw a conclusion from it.”

It was a bit different to be escorted by a whole bunch of guards to get something to eat. Whole cell block C was brought to the canteen while the corridors were being cleaned. No one had said a word that Erik hadn't been in his cell. Just a wrinkled nose from the guard who got them out of the cell.

Blocks A and B were also there. Everyone stared at them with wide eyes.

"How is it that I've never seen you in the canteen before, although strictly speaking we'd had the pleasure of eating together more often?" Erik asked quietly as they were assigned tables.

Charles, always by his side, looked around furtively. "I was not here. Hank always sneaked me out before going to the canteen. But since we are two now, that is no longer possible. And I didn't want to leave you alone. So do me a favour and be as inconspicuous as possible.”

But just as they were sitting, he heard Tucker call. "Erik! Erik! Here!"

He was only two tables away and waved happily to Erik. He even smiled, though it was more of a crooked grin. Erik waved back slightly. He was not allowed to get up until the guard allowed them to.

"He should be calm," Charles growled, looking around as if he were on a battlefield. "I don't want to pay attention to us."

"I'll tell him as soon as we get up," Erik murmured, smiling in Tucker's direction.

When they were finally allowed to go to the food counter - again, of course, only under close observation - Tucker got up and went to the food queue again, although he still had food on his tray.

"Bub," he said happily, and immediately stood next to Erik and Charles. "How are you? Shit, you look good! The beard suits you!”

"Thanks, Tucker," Erik replied softly, trying to hide Charles behind him as best he could. "How are you? Have I missed a lot?”

"Depends," his buddy sighed as he looked around the area. “I have a new cellmate. But he’s really shitty. Only swearing all the time. I smashed his face in yesterday when he insulted me again. That's why I can't go to work now.”

Erik raised his eyebrows. "Never again?"

"No, no, only four weeks," he said, rolling his eyes. "It’s okay, I won't lose that much money."

Charles was still standing next to them like a quiet mouse. Hiding behind Erik's back. Tucker really didn't seem to notice him.

"Oh," his former cellmate began to speak again, "how is Wanda? Were you allowed to keep her?”

Erik smiled a little. "She is fine. Well waiting for me in my cell.”

"I am glad to hear that. Hope she's taking good care of you,” Tucker joked, taking another custard. Erik guessed that it wouldn't taste like anything. Nevertheless, he also took one. For old time’s sake.

"It was nice to see you again," Erik said, pointing to their assigned table. "But we have to go back now."

Tucker nodded, but he frowned. "We? Do you already identify yourself with the others here?” His eyes wandered over every face that was close to Erik.

Charles kept moving away.

"Yes, you could say that," Erik agreed quickly, and cleared his throat. "The guys aren't as bad as you think."

"Wow," Tucker murmured suddenly, as if disappointed. “That’s how fast it can be. Thought you were comfortable here too.”

"I was, Tucker." Erik tried to hold the tray on one hand and put the other on his shoulder. “Thank you for that. We will surely see each other again here and there.”

"I hope so," he grinned, patting Erik's shoulder, who just barely gripped the tray again. “Even if someone has to bite the dust every time. Let’s hope it’s nobody we knew.”

Erik finally just nodded and watched Charles glare at him. "See you soon, Tucker."

This parted their ways again.

"Was that really necessary?" Charles grumbled grimly as he dipped a piece of bread into the pasta sauce.

"Sorry. He's a friend.”

"Yes, yes," was all he said. Then he fell into a voracious silence.

Erik chuckled here and there whenever he saw Charles' annoyed face, which only sprayed pure jealousy.

The happy mood, however, quickly settled when it became clear who had been found dead at dawn when changing shifts: Oscar.

"Fuck," Charles said, sitting in the common room with his arms crossed. "How could that happen?"

"A gap in our circle of acquaintances?" Erik muttered softly as he braced himself on the tabletop. His gaze wandered through the small room where a few inmates were playing cards or reading again.

"But not here," his friend grumbled and looked around too. “Everyone in C hates Shaw. They would never help him. No matter what, as long as it harms him, the plan is supported.”

Erik drummed on the table top. "Then one of B?"

“Also impossible, my middleman assured me earlier that he hadn't even made contact. It didn't go that quickly after all.”

Both men snorted. Their legs were tangled under the table. Charles carefully stroked Erik's shin with his foot. The gesture felt a thousand times more comfortable than if Shaw had rubbed his leg, expensive Italian shoes on Erik.

"Now what?" Charles asked, frowning. "Oscar was our only chance."

“No, we have more options. But with a rat in the team, we have to be careful with information.” he stared blankly at the wall. "And you're sure the cameras and microphones won't work here?"

"Definitely," Charles said. "If Shaw would see how easily we run around here in the evening, he would have infiltrated the block long ago."

That made sense. But Erik still thought something fishy might going on. “So it was one of the men sitting here after all. Or the guards?”

Charles leaned forward and grabbed Erik's hand. He firmly pressed his fingers. “From now on we only discuss things in our cells. There are no cameras. Not even the dummies. With muffled voices, no microphone in the hall should hear us. And no guard either. And no other inmate.”

"We'll still have to work with others," Erik murmured, looking Charles in the eye. "But okay. Plan meeting only in the cell.”

Both nodded and kissed each other quickly. They were again snubbed by a guard, but both knew that it was the same guard who got them out of the cell that morning and said nothing when Erik was with Charles. He knew about their relationship.

To their positive surprise, Erik was able to pack all his belongings to Charles’ cell in the afternoon. He even got a second bed, which was unfortunately attached to the floor. On the other side of the cell.

"A shame," Erik said, watching the craftsperson screw the bed to the floor. "I’d rather push the two beds together and we would have a lot of space."

"Well," Charles grinned, leaning against the wall next to Erik and also watched the craftsperson. Both were chained to the wall because the cell door was open and the specialist was supposed to work in peace. "You can thank the guy who once lifted such a bed and threw it after a guard."

"Wow, that must have been a Hercules," Erik said in surprise, moving a little closer to Charles.

"Apparently. Was before my time. But since then the beds have been locked on the floor. No more killing the guards with metal beds.”

"Too bad," Erik, joked and kissed Charles' hair.

"So, ladies," the craftsperson began, turning to the two men. "Bed is ready now."

Erik immediately fell silent. It was Azazel. The guy who had brought him and Raven into the small boiler room. He wanted to say something, ask him something, but the man just nodded to him and finally walked out of the cell.

Charles looked at both Azazel and Erik curiously.

"You knew him," he whispered. "From where?"

“He took me and your sister to a boiler room where we could talk undisturbed. In block A. There she told me everything.”

"What a coincidence that he's making beds here," Charles muttered, and let a guard remove his handcuffs. Erik did the same. When they were alone in their cell again, Charles sat on his bed. "How does she know him?"

“She didn't tell me that. Except he's a good friend,” Erik replied, sitting next to his boyfriend. "He's probably a mechanic."

“All the stranger that he's making beds. I have to contact her again. Even if I don't like doing that.”

"I can do it if you'd prefer," Erik suggested, leaning back. The wall was cold, but he could put his legs on the bed.

"No, you'd better take care of a plan B."

“I think we already have one. What if we get Hank's uniform? And his transponder?”

"He would never do that," Charles murmured, raising his eyebrows. He also leaned back carefully to lie in Erik's arms. “He would not only risk his job, but also his future life. It would be a good reason to bring him to jail as well.”

“You got a uniform after all, if I remember correctly. Who was it from?”

Charles smiled weakly. “You mean when I was sitting at your bed in the nights? I stole it from the laundry. Just for those few times so the cameras don't immediately unmask me when I walk around block A.”

"Maybe we'll find mechanic uniforms there too."

"And then? Do you want to go to the basement disguised as a mechanic?”

"Why not?"

"I don't think you would just get in there like that."

Erik frowned. “We could ask Azazel. He is by no means a leak in Shaw’s boat. After all, he made it possible for me to talk to your sister.”

"Probably true. I can ask her if she can send him over again. In the evening or so. Questions don't cost anything. Normally at least.”

"We'll clutch at every straw," Erik purred, leaning on Charles, who was slowly falling into the pillows. “I continue to research. We'll get to his little hiding place.”

An intense but loving kiss followed, with Charles running his hands under Erik's collar. He finally smiled sadly and sighed. “I want to see Shaw burn too. But I'm afraid you'll be at the stake instead of him.”

Erik ran his nose over Charles' cheek. “Don't worry, babe. If this place starts to burn, we're already over the mountains.”

Meeting Raven seemed more difficult than previously thought. Charles came back annoyed after another round of meetings in the evening.

"Hank has a day off and she doesn't answer my emails," he growled, biting his lip. "So the meeting between us will probably be postponed."

"Where do you want to hold it anyway?"

"In the laundry, we've always met there," he sighed, and dropped on the bed besides Erik, who was rubbing his hair off after the shower. "Only half of the cameras work."

"Interesting that Shaw doesn't notice that so many cameras don't work."

“Well, because the guy doesn't watch all cameras. Usually he is more interested in the people in block A and B than in C. Here the guys are difficult, scum, disgusting and somehow the lost sheep of society. Shaw doesn't want to deal with such lowly people.”

That made Erik smile. "You're right. Probably a reason why he didn't contact me anymore. I've gotten dirty and nasty now.”

The next day seemed perfectly normal until the guards, who normally came to work the night shift, didn’t arrive. Instead, other men were brought in. They didn't drive off with the previous guards, they just nodded. They also didn't open the cells.

Hank was nowhere to be seen.

"Fuck," Charles murmured, looking around as best as he could. The hallway was empty so far. None of the cells had opened. "Where's Hank?"

"Is he sick?" Erik asked, also looking around. The rest of the inmates were whispering quietly. "Can you communicate with each other in a different way?"

“No… I would have to go to the office. There is a computer. I could write an email from there, but ..." Charles turned and looked at Erik with wide eyes, "I can't get in there. The daytime guards are much stricter. As strict as those who are here now. In addition, it is way too difficult to do anything during the day because the administration often makes unannounced visits to inspect the blocks.”

"Means?" Erik felt Charles's nervousness grow.

"Means ... we have to convert the guards again or do our things during the day."

"It takes too long to convert," Erik grumbled. "We don't have that much time."

"What, why? Are you going to be released soon, or what?” Charles said bluntly. The whole situation probably burdened him. Having no contact with his loved ones made him unpredictable.

“No, but Shaw has been quiet for far too long. That makes me nervous."

"Just be happy about it," Charles growled, and turned back to the glass door, where he stared curiously at the hallway. Whenever he tried to make eye contact with the guards, they ignored him.

Both men slept very restlessly at night. Charles even wanted to be alone in his bed, so that Erik lay in his own under the covers and racked his brain.

The next morning, when Erik was sitting on his bed with the small tray of food, he stared at his lover, who had previously ignored him.

"I'd have an idea," he said softly, catching Erik's attention. "But one of us has to hurt himself."

Charles looked into Erik’s eyes for a while. Cold. Unpredictable. Kind of uncomfortable. Suddenly there was the killer. Not the agent. Not the dear man. It was just the murderer he'd become. Anger changed him. In something unsightly.

If Charles had no control in his life, it seemed to throw him off the rails.

Without a word, he reached for the plastic knife and set the tray aside. "Maybe we'll be separated again, do you understand?" he said monotonously, standing up.

Erik also pushed the tray aside. He had suffered so many wounds - what was one more? "Yeah, I know that."

"Maybe it will backfire and I'll hit a fatal spot."

Erik came up to Charles. "I know."

"Let's hope they think it was an accident," Charles finally murmured, suddenly losing all anger in his eyes.

"Accident? Did you stumble?” Erik chuckled and took Charles' hands in his.

Charles returned the smile. "Then let's just say we wanted to try something new."

"Sexually?"

"Maybe I'm into pain?"

Erik chuckled softly until he suddenly understood the intent in Charles' statement. “Wait, _you_ are into pain? No, no, that's –“

But then Charles had the knife in his thigh. The plastic had broken off and was now partly in his muscle. He gasped and held the bleeding area. Erik saw his friend go down and immediately called the guards. Before they came, Charles grabbed Erik's hands and smeared them with blood. Then he ran his bloodied hands over his face, spread it over his cheeks and neck. There was an intense kiss with a lot of tongue, into which Charles groaned. Erik didn't know whether out of pain or pleasure.

But the guards seemed to buy it.

"Fucking shit, what are you doing?" one grumbled and opened the cell door. "Stop messing around, that's disgusting!"

Erik watched them grab Charles and drag him out of the cell. His thigh wasn't bleeding too much, but Erik still felt like he was in a splatter film. There was blood everywhere.

He tasted Charles even minutes after they dragged him away.

Almost a whole day passed before Erik was allowed to take a shower and Charles appeared on the surface again. In fact, they let him back into his cell. To Erik.

"And you are sure of that?" the guard asked, pointing to Erik, who had got up from the bed expectantly to greet his friend. Charles stood shakily on one leg and nodded weakly. His skin was that of a ghost.

“We just wanted to try it out. It was a bit too much, though,” he murmured, and finally limped to Erik, who immediately caught him with open arms.

The guard shook his head and closed the cell door. When he was finally gone, Charles lay down on the bed with Erik. He immediately reached for his collar.

"They fired Hank," he said shakily, wiping his lips several times.

"So your sister came to you?" Erik suddenly asked, just as upset as Charles. "And what? Hank was fired?”

"He," Charles said, seeming to break apart. “He's got a trial going on now. Because they try to prove that he helped inmates. Just like all other night watchmen! Erik, do you know what that means? Someone found out that we have different rules here!”

"Slow down, Charles," Erik tried to calm his paling friend. "Did you meet it with -"

"Don't!" Charles interrupted, covering his mouth. His hands were freezing. “Don't say her name. We have done enough!”

Erik didn't quite understand, but paused. Until he finally nodded and Charles took his hands off his mouth.

"She's going too," he whispered softly. "The mechanic ... technician ... or whoever it was ..."

"Azazel?"

"Yes, Azazel! He's gone too. He was fired. He also has a lawsuit. Where from, Erik? Who tells Shaw all this?”

Erik carefully stroked Charles's cheeks. It was also cold. The shock was probably very deep. "I don’t know. Do you really think Shaw is behind it? Then why hasn't he come to us yet?”

"Because he's a bastard!" Charles said suddenly, pushing Erik away. “Because he wants us to rot in here! He doesn’t care about us! He feeds on a perfidious joy that we are slowly suffocating here!”

The frantic movements of Charles suddenly froze. With his eyes closed, he pressed his thick bandage on his leg. Erik took a plastic cup from the sink and filled it with water. He carefully handed it to his friend.

As he drank, Erik scanned the cell. "So she's gone now?"

Charles nodded and sipped from the water. He seemed to have calmed down a bit. “I urged her to do it. Before she would get into trouble. Don't say her name. I don't want her to get a knife in the back, too.”

"Then we won't have anyone here," Erik concluded, biting his lower lip.

Charles remained silent for a while. Erik turned a few times and searched the cell with his eyes. No cameras. No microphones.

"I wonder how Shaw knew all this," Charles murmured, placing the plastic cup on the floor. He stared at Erik with red eyes. “We discussed in this cell that we would inaugurate Azazel. Just the two of us."

Erik slowly turned to face him. Their eyes met for a while until Charles slowly got up. He wobbled quite a bit. “No one else was there. And I know from myself that I only trusted the people I have trusted for months.”

"Charles," Erik began warningly, but his friend couldn't be dissuaded.

“You are the only person in my area who is new. You’ve only been causing trouble since you’ve been here,” Charles said. Quiet, but with the eyes of a predator. “Nobody else had anything to do with Shaw except you. Only you were in such direct contact with him.”

"Stop it," Erik said firmly, clenching his fists. “Why should I cheat on you? What would I get out of it?”

"Don't know, tell me?" Charles said, pounding the wall with his fist. It cracked. Anyway, Charles didn't show whether it was the wall or his hand. His face was immediately grimacing. The anger in him was clearly visible. “What did he offer you to let me get busted, huh? To make you throw yourself at me, bind me emotionally to you? Money? A soon release? A shitty medal?”

Charles grew louder until he screamed the whole cell. "Quieter, Charles!" Erik hissed, approaching his friend. He grabbed his jaw and pressed his palm to Charles' mouth. “Shaw didn't tell me anything! Until recently I didn't know who you were! Damn it, why should I have Oscar killed? Why should I get our loyal and above all important middlemen in trouble? Just to get you busted? Bullshit!"

Charles tore Erik's hand away and continued to bawl him out with pure venom. But with a muffled voice. "You are the only one who is connected to all these things!"

"Yes, because we both have the same plan!"

"No," growled Charles, coming dangerously close to Erik. “ _Your_ plan! We follow your idea! I went through it all again, the last time my sister patched me up in tears: you wrote a letter to Tucker, right? Just before Oscar died. What was that? Any instruction to murder him? So you can meet Tucker in the canteen?”

"Excuse me?" Erik whispered incredulously and let go of Charles.

"You have someone murdered so block C and A can eat together again, don't you? You knew that! So you could talk to Tucker! Do you think I didn’t listen when you were shit talking like that?”

"How dare you," Erik began, disappointed, and raised his eyebrows. “You call that trust? Shit, I just wrote to Tucker that I was fine and that he shouldn't worry!”

"Why should you write him something like that?!"

"Because he's my friend!" Erik shouted this time, kicking the bed next to him. His foot hurt immediately. It was the sprained ankle. But fuck it, Erik was angry. The only emotion he kept feeling. “Why should I have Oscar killed? It was my own idea to use him!”

"Because you want to destroy me!" Charles whined, finally starting to shed the first tear. "I trusted you! But you're like everyone else!”

"You're completely paranoid!" Erik concluded, raising his hands as if he was beginning to lose sight of what was going on. “I want to get you out of here! That's all!"

“Hank told me you were going to do this, but you never mentioned it to me! Because I'm so emotional, right?” Charles sniffed, wiping his face. “It was a complete lie! Who else should have blabbed all of this out? If not you, who else? Nobody is here except the two of us! And why should I let my own kingdom die?”

But before Erik could start to counter, Charles cut him off again.

“Can't you get it? Shaw doesn't really know who I am, but he'll find out! Each of my protective shields fall over like dominoes! I'll be exposed to Shaw defenceless if it goes on like this! He'll kill me!”

Charles started to sob loudly and rubbed his face more and more. He dropped back onto the bed and stroked his injured leg. Erik just stood there and didn't know what to do. Finally there was an oppressive silence in which Charles only cried softly and Erik stared at the floor again without emotion.

“I'm not going to kill you, Charles. Quite the contrary,” he began in a whisper, unrolling some toilet paper to give it to Charles. Through all the crying, fluid from his nose was already running down his chin. He reluctantly accepted the toilet paper. Erik knelt down next to the bed besides him. “I want to get you out of here. Together. And I want to see Shaw burn. I also don't know how information gets to him. But believe me, I'm not cheating on you.”

Charles blew his nose into the toilet paper several times until he crumpled it up and threw it into a corner. He shrugged his shoulders and sniffed a few more times. He suddenly looked like a small child who had been kicked and insulted.

Erik ran a hand over his healthy leg. With wide eyes he struggled to give his emotions a little free rein. "I love you, babe."

Charles' lower lip trembled tremendously until he bit it. So firm that Erik could almost see blood. Eventually he whispered in a shaky voice, "I love you too, babe."

Both held their hands for a moment until Erik sat down on the bed with Charles. There he took him in his arms and hugged him tightly.

"You're not lying to me?" Charles whimpered softly, reaching into Erik's shirt to hold on to it.

"I'm not lying to you," Erik said, kissing his hair. “I didn't write a letter to Tucker asking for murder. It was really just a short hello and I’m fine. Not more."

"Then who is Wanda? Tucker asked about her. There are no women here. Is that a code name?” Charles asked, leaning against his shoulder.

"Wanda? No, that's the mouse he gave me.”

Suddenly Charles stopped hiccupping. Instead, he leaned back to look into Erik's green eyes. Frozen.

"A mouse?" he asked in a broken voice. His cheeks were as red as his eyelids, but the strength was slowly coming back into his eyes. “Which mouse? The plush mouse?”

"Yeah, exactly," Erik nodded, pointing to the small shelf where she was sitting. “He gave her to me when I was in the hospital. As ... well, support. What you usually give to children. But it was nice. The gesture was very kind.”

Charles stared at the mouse and blinked a few times before finally jumping up and reaching for it. He turned her in his hand a few times until he tore off her tail.

"Hey! What are you doing ?!” Erik called and immediately slid to his friend, who was crouching on the floor and started tearing the cotton wool out of the mouse.

“He's giving you a shitty stuffed animal for support? And inquiries about it as if it was a person? He's no longer a shitty child, Erik!” Charles said angrily, plucking more and more cotton wool out of the mouse. “He wanted you to keep the mouse with you, right? And you really did that! Do you know why Shaw doesn't allow gifts from others? Because he's afraid of bugs! But you have three attempts to guess what he prefers to use himself!”

Erik saw all the cotton wool lying on the floor. Shocked that his mouse was torn to pieces by his paranoid friend. But when Charles actually held a small microphone with a button battery in his hand, a horrified sigh escaped him.

Charles's trembling hands held up the mic like a holy grail. "He betrayed you, Erik," he said just before a nervous breakdown. “He is the rat. He listened to us all the time. The _whole_ time."

Erik caught his breath. And the feeling of suffocation didn't stop until Charles broke the mic under his shoe, splitting it into a thousand small pieces.


	23. Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter:  
> \- shooting /guns

It hurt to realise that he had been cheated on. Him and Charles. Hank. Raven. Azazel. Anyone else who tried to make block C a better place.

Charles was still sitting between the cotton balls. Around him balls of different sizes on white innards of an actually cute mouse, which was intended as a loving gift. Erik dropped onto the bed. He slid with his fingers in his hair, supported himself on his legs and sighed several times in his hands.

"You shouldn't be seeing him anymore," Charles breathed softly into the actually quiet cell. Other inmates were talking around them, but that seemed far away. As if Erik and Charles were alone. The empty feeling in Erik underscored this assumption.

"Why should Tucker do that ..." he asked quietly, running with his fingers thought his hair again.

"No idea. Money? Wasn't he even a drug dealer? Maybe he's a Candy. Or at least he pulls the strings,” Charles guessed, and began to collect the remains of the mouse.

"He didn't look that way," Erik murmured, also starting to collect cotton waste from the corners of the cell that Charles had carelessly tossed there. He avoided stepping on the plastic parts of the microphone. The button battery was still in whole pieces next to the shelf. “He was so nice. A big teddy.”

"Aren't those mostly the ones you'd least expect to be the bad guys?"

Erik shook his head in disbelief and said nothing.

Charles, on the other hand, stretched out his legs on the floor. He sat there like a child, staring at the cotton wool in his hands. “Wasn't he the one who always gave you all the information? Rumours about stuff happening here? Who died, who had to do with whom? What if he was the one who spread the rumours in the first place?”

“He loved gossiping. That was all,” Erik defended his friend. "I don't think he's a rat."

"Erik," Charles began ruefully, throwing the collected cotton onto the floor next to him. “He gave you a mouse with a bug! How much evidence do you need?”

"A solid one," he sighed, and finally picked up the mic. Or at least the remains of it. "Maybe it was put in there by someone else."

"Yeah, sure," Charles snorted, and finally got up. “He set us up. You and me. And above all, he got those who are important to us in trouble! Not only did an important middleman die because of him - no - a second mate will therefore now be in great trouble!”

Unfortunately, Erik had no choice but to nod.

Charles bit his lip and pointed to the rest of the cell. “Let's go over everything else. Make sure that there's no bug somewhere we've missed.”

They went through every corner. Every fold of every towel. Any garment. Charles even unscrewed the tap. Which was amazingly easy. Erik suddenly became paranoid. This prison just broke the normal psyche.

After dismantling the whole cell, Charles eyed his lover. "Undress."

That made Erik laugh uncertainly. "You think I'm bugged?"

Charles was already starting to undress himself. "No, I know you're not bugged." When Erik did nothing, he came up to him and undressed him himself. "I want sex. And tomorrow I want us to make a new plan. And you tell me everything. No matter how emotional I get. Roger that?"

The passive-aggressive way how Charles undressed Erik should have been an indication that the sex would be rough. But Erik didn't say no, let himself be stripped and led to the bed. There, Charles rode him like a savage. The light was turned off at some point, so Erik could only feel his lover. He choked him as he just kept going. The anger probably needed an outlet and Erik let him. Ultimately, Charles came generously on his stomach and removed himself from Erik. He crawled out of bed without a word and went into his own. Erik simply lay on his back unsatisfied and stared at the wall. He didn’t care about coming. It was okay that Charles had used him. Instead, he continued to rack his brain.

He still didn't think Tucker had cheated on him. Different ideas brushed his head as to why the mic was in the mouse, but he couldn't think of a credible one. Charles didn't want him to contact him anymore. But what should he do? He had to speak to Tucker again.

The next morning Charles sat in his bed like a poor madman, staring at the wall. Erik only woke up after him and watched him for a while, until he wondered if Charles had fallen asleep with his eyes open, since he hadn't even blinked in a minute.

"Charles," he said finally, which prompted a reaction from his friend. "Everything OK?"

"No," he said hoarsely, and turned to Erik. “But there's nothing you can do about it. Come here."

Erik didn't quite like the command tone, but he was already walking towards his friend, so he left the reprimanding words in his throat.

"I've been thinking about a new plan for a long time," Charles said in a muffled voice, laying the covers over Erik's bare legs. "We'll fix the bug."

Erik raised an eyebrow. "To give them wrong information?"

"Right. We lure whoever is responsible for it into the laundry. We'll meet them there.”

That made Erik laugh softly. “You know they will have you cornered then? And that we might dig a pit for ourselves?”

“What else can we do than attack head-on? I don't want to be here anymore.” His big eyes moved over Erik's face. Contempt, anger, and maybe a pinch of aggression spread through them. He looked like he hadn't slept all night. He'd probably never been betrayed like this before.

Erik was glad that he didn't feel anything. As usual, he didn't really care. Even if it hurt somewhere deep in his heart that Tucker had deceived him like that. Or whoever was behind it. It was more a dull feeling, but nothing more.

“I don't feel like being here either. But what happens when we meet the men who cheated on us in the laundry?”

"We'll kill them," Charles said firmly, clenching his fists. “We steal their transponders. Phones. Weapons. Or whatever they have. Then we have to be quick.”

"Okay, Charles, it really sounds like a suicide mission, don't overdo it -"

“We'll go to Shaw and smash the guards out of C on the way. At night. When he's not there.”

"Charles, that doesn't work," Erik started again, but his friend talked himself into a kind of trance in which he stopped listening.

“We'll burn everything down there and wait for the evacuation to begin. Then –“

Erik then stopped listening. It was absolute bullshit. Charles was angry and wanted retribution. Erik wanted that too, but you had to do it with a cooler head. He was beginning to understand why they thought he was the perfect choice for this job. Charles - a normal person – has gone crazy completely. Well, maybe he was a special case. Too emotional. Still - the plan remained on Erik. And he had to act quickly before Charles did anything that would get him in trouble.

As they ate their lunch in silence, Erik considered what else they could do. They still didn't know who was behind the mafia businesses. Whether Tucker really worked for Shaw. If Candy existed at all. And if the whole program hadn't just been an excuse to put both Charles and him behind bars. Out of whichever reasons.

The paranoid streak slowly flowed into Erik. And it seemed to be staying.

He really wanted to talk to Tucker again, even if it was dangerous. But he had only a chance of doing so while eating together in the canteen. Cell block C had to be closed for this. That only happened with murders. Erik didn't want to just kill someone like that. Especially since there was no one in C whom he disliked enough to wish him to die. The last murder was still deep in his bones. The one he had committed for Charles.

What Erik didn't know was that Charles was making his own plans. He only got an idea of this when he sat down with other prisoners during the community round and not with Erik. They talked about various topics. Finally, Charles pushed the broken bug to a guy under the table.

Erik could only sigh and roll his eyes. He had to act faster.

In the evening, he confronted Charles, but as always, he had a good way out: he gave Erik a blowjob, which felt like catapulting him back to block A. After that, they both went back to bed without really talking about it.

Charles would not have been Charles if at least after a long time he had made such a big mistake that even Erik could only watch.

Two days had passed in which Charles had planned secret things behind Erik's back. He wasn't stupid. After all, a trained agent. But in such a small space and in the presence of a detective, he had no chance that at least part of the plan would not leak. At shower times, Charles suddenly went into the office with a guard instead of taking a shower. Erik just rolled his eyes and followed the two. He could already imagine where that would lead.

And he actually caught the two in the act. Charles was just about to open the guard's pants.

Both were startled when Erik leaned against the door and folded his arms. "What's that supposed to be?" he asked in a calm but determined tone.

"Go, babe, I'll be right there with you," Charles said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world to suck a guard's cock.

"No thanks. I'd like to know why you have to blow him,” he mumbled, eyeing the guard. He was very much like Hank. Not quite as slim. Not quite as gaunt. But somehow pretty much the same. Either Charles liked to have such poor sausages or they were the easiest to convert. Probably both. And Erik secretly wondered if he had gotten Hank converted with a blowjob as well.

"Shit, I'm not doing this!" the guard whimpered, pulling his pants up again. He staggered a few steps backwards, pushing a coffee cup off the table. He immediately cursed and reached for a tea towel to wipe the coffee off the floor. Erik and Charles suddenly became invisible for him.

"What's this about?" Charles hissed, approaching his boyfriend. “I was about to arrange something for us!“

"What exactly?" Erik growled, pointing at the guy who was as flat as a LED screen. "If it's not a threesome, I don't see through the plan."

"He could open the doors for us, okay?"

"To do what exactly?"

"We need the freedom to walk around, Erik, don't you understand?" Charles grumbled, clenching his fists. "I'm doing this for us!"

Erik couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Then please. Blow the guy. Tell me when you are ready. I could use one today too.”

"You're such a selfish, stupid-" Charles insulted Erik, but he was out the door before he could finish his sentence.

In fact, Charles came back to the cell much later than everyone else in block C. With a sad look, he sat on his bed and buried himself under the covers. Erik didn't know whether he had actually blown the guard or not. He didn't want to ask either.

The next morning everything was all right again. Anyway, that's what Charles made it look like. A kiss here, a kiss there. Loving hugs and a round of sex in the evening. As if he would make up for his cheating. It was too quiet. Even for Erik's taste. So he was not surprised that this calm came to an end extremely quickly.

The cell opened quietly at night. The lean guard stood at the door and carefully whispered Charles' name. He literally jumped out of bed and padded to the door.

"Hey," the guard almost breathed in love and bit his lip. No one seemed to notice that Erik was awake and watching them.

"Hey, nice to see you," Charles flirted like a master. And it reminded Erik of their first meetings. What would have happened if Erik had jumped on him like almost everyone here? "Can I go outside? Are we going somewhere else?”

"Yes," the guard nodded, and let Charles out of the cell. How stupid did you have to be to just let a felon out for sex? In fact, he was so stupid and left the cell door open as if Erik didn't exist. Both went arm in arm in the direction of the showers and left Erik alone. He sighed loudly and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes.

But when nothing happened after 15 minutes and Charles didn't come back, he started to worry. He carefully put on shoes and peered out of the cell. There was no one to be seen. Just a couple of guards sitting in their office watching some strange movie. Erik followed the direction in which Charles and the guard had gone. It was the showers. He didn't hear anything. No moans, no water, but no voices either.

Only the light was on.

And the guard lay on the floor. Unconscious. Thank god not dead.

"Fuck, Charles!" Erik swore, looking around frantically. He was nowhere to be seen. So Erik went back and past the office. He was about to go to the gate when he saw the laundry door open. It was dark inside, but he assumed Charles had used the laundry as a way to leave block C.

Suddenly he felt his pulse rise. Why should his friend go on tours alone at night? Without telling Erik? Was that the tit-for-tat response for his own plans back then? But didn't _that_ go a little too far?

He followed the trail of open doors until he was actually at block A. He recognized the passage immediately. It led to the training rooms. Near the sports field. Where he had met Hank on the grate. Why was nobody here at night? Did Charles know about it? Or was it just a coincidence?

Erik immediately felt uncomfortable as he sneaked through the hallways. If a guard found him, he would not be politely asked to go back. In addition, several cameras were pointed at him. If not all. Shaw had such a peculiarity that everything Erik did was immediately on the screen.

Finally he heard voices from the block A showers. Then he recognized Charles'. And Tucker’s.

"Shit," Erik breathed, and sprinted to the showers. Light was on. No guards. But Charles, who was in the shower room with Tucker.

"I didn't know about this!" Tucker said, holding up both arms. "Why should I do this to him?"

"Money? Drugs? Power?” Charles asked, holding his fists up. "Rats like you don't need many reasons!"

"Shit, what's going on here?" Erik said, feeling like being in one of those bad gangster films. "Charles, what are you doing?"

"Bub!" Tucker called in surprise and took a few steps towards him. However, when Erik moved away from him, he stopped abruptly. “This is a big misunderstanding! I swear! I have nothing to do with Shaw!”

"He's lying!" Charles bawled him out. “You gave it to him! You even made it by yourself! Then how can you not know there's a bug in there?”

"I didn't sew it myself!" Tucker whimpered, gesturing a few times with his hands. “Scott helped me! Bub, do you remember? I told you Scott helped me!”

"Yes, you did," Erik murmured, admitting that he only vaguely remembered it. His dizziness at the time from the painkillers had made him see everything like sitting behind a veil.

"Then Scott must have put the bug in the mouse!" Tucker said again, always turning back and forth between Charles and Erik. “I would never hurt you, bub! Why should I do that?"

"His vest is just not as white as he makes us believe," Charles grumbled, striding toward Tucker. “What difference does it make now? He knows my name and he knows what I look like! He knows that we are connected. That's too much information for a guy we don't know if he's a rat after all!”

"Don't touch him!" Erik called, leaping in front of Tucker. "He is my friend! And we won't touch him until we know more!”

"What are you going to wait for?" Charles shouted hysterically, pulling a plastic knife out of his pocket. "That we will also be killed?"

"You won't hurt Tucker, Charles, I swear," Erik threatened his own boyfriend. But he ignored him and wanted to storm past him when Erik grabbed his arms. "I said _no_!"

"Let go of me, Erik!" Charles shouted again, twisting his grip. He hit Erik in the face with his elbow so that he had to turn away to suppress the pain in his still broken nose.

Tucker tried to escape the shower, but was thrown onto the floor by Charles, who hurled himself with all his strength. Finally Erik got up and interfered. Charles scratched his arm several times and even bit his hand.

Tucker meanwhile kept trying to escape, but didn't get far because Charles was faster. The three fought for quite a while until light finally appeared in the hallway and guards were heard.

"Fuck!" Charles said, pushing Erik away. "None of this would have happened if you hadn't interrupted me!"

"None of this would have happened if you hadn't even thought of murdering a friend!" Erik countered angrily and finally punched Charles in the face. He fell to the floor and held his bleeding nose.

Before he could send Tucker away, guards stormed the shower and held guns on them. Four men, highly armed, with machine guns in hand, surrounded the three inmates. Whatever had happened to Charles that he had to rear himself even in this hopeless situation only made them angrier. A guard shouted several times that they should lie on the floor, but instead of doing so, Charles got up again and ran towards Tucker.

"You ruined everything!" he shouted angrily. Erik reacted faster than the guard and pulled Charles back onto the floor while a gun was fired. Tucker was hit on the chest and cried out in pain.

The guards screamed again, this time all four, and began to pull out the handcuffs. Tucker lay on the floor, writhing and whimpering desperately. He lost a lot of blood. So much blood. Erik was already bathing in it.

"Tucker," he began to speak to him, reaching for him. But the guards were already fixing him. "I am so sorry! So sorry, Tucker, do you hear?”

But he slowly lost consciousness. A guard put a hand on the wound to stop the bleeding. Meanwhile, Charles was almost knocked out by the guards who were beating him. Erik didn't know where to look first.

Eventually his tinnitus overcame him and he passed out.

He woke up in the glass cell where he was put before the transfer. Hands and feet were chained to the floor. His head hurt. His hands and feet felt swollen. Around him was the brightly lit emptiness of a hallway. And the bare room that he had been interrogated before. Three cameras, two of them moveable. No obvious microphones. None of that had changed.

Finally a door opened from the corridor and the good old Emma came in. As always in white. As always with a high nose. Her blonde hair was styled on her shoulders. Shaw came in close behind her. His dark purple suit made him look like a real villain for the first time.

"Erik, Erik," he began to raise his voice. "What happened to you?"

Erik always thought it best if he didn't say anything. So he kept his lips closed and looked at his tormentor, who stood close to the glass and played on the holes that let air and noise into the small cell. Erik was chained, after all. His freedom of movement was accordingly restricted.

"I would have given you everything, my dear, but you really wanted to have this well-worn sex kitten," Shaw sighed long-winded and shook his head several times as if he couldn't understand the plight. “Let me do you a good thing. I'm finally telling you the truth you've been longing for so many weeks. Your lover, yes? He is sick, you know? In his head."

Emma just stood next to Shaw with his hands clasped behind her back. Why she was always there was a mystery to Erik.

But Shaw was not particularly distracted by Erik's mental absence and just kept talking. “The good man thinks he was an agent. Can you imagine that? The petite little man?”

That made Erik's attention grow. With an eyebrow raised, he watched the prison director.

"Yeah, that's right," Shaw smiled gently, playing with his many rings on his hand. “Good Charles is not an agent. He's just a killer. Whatever he told you is not true at all. Do you know who he used to be? A normal bank employee. Until his boss pissed him off and he murdered her in cold blood. Supposedly she humiliated him, wanted to fire him or what do I know. The fascinating staging was already in him, because one found her head impaled on the Christmas tree at that time, while the rest of her body was found in the copy room, where the copier made more than 100 copies of her severed hand. Charles needed medication. Because he was mentally ill. He finally stopped taking them, ran away, and tried to start a new life until he was finally caught and brought here. He negated psychological care, although it would have been good for him. After all, he hadn't been accountable. So I had to put him in cell block C. He still refuses to take medication. So he had to go to a solitary cell. But even there he killed my men who didn't dance according to his tune. Just like that - in the shower, in the corridor, no matter where – he killed them. Whenever he was afraid, he would strike. At some point he staged the personality that he is today. So he was left alone.”

Erik drew a strict line with his lips. But he didn't interrupt Shaw. When the lie was so well thought out.

"Do you know what I did? I let him think he was in control of block C. The number of murders went back and he thought he was the King. The cameras in cell block C are working properly, Erik. I have seen everything. But as long as nobody was hurt - please. Fuck your brains out. I don't care!”

Whatever happened to Erik's face, Shaw was amused. He laughed and finally walked a few meters around the glass cell. Erik followed him with his eyes.

“I knew you met him in the shower in the evening. In any case, I suspected that. But well, I could imagine what was going on. Until the murders with Antonio came to my table. Quite a record, after two days. But I benefited you that it was Charles' idea and not yours. That's why I didn't change your terms. Instead, I gave you an offer. I don't have to tell you how that went, you were there yourself. You preferred the cute little boy who made mooneyes at you. Well, and poor Hank? He had wrapped him quite nicely around his little finger. I finally had to fire him. He was involved in the murders that I have tolerated for far too long. I was missing a piece of the puzzle in the network that Charles had laid out so generously. And that was his sister. Thank you very much, I only found out recently when you two were talking so freely about her. She is not his sister at all. You didn't know that, did you?”

He walked again a few meters until he stopped.

“She only grew up with him. Then their ways parted. For a very long time she didn't know who he was and what he was doing. At some point he told her that he was an agent and that he had been asked to go to prison to find about mafia businesses. He only wanted to disguise that he had been caught due to a very cruel act. Probably to protect her. Or to make his own lie more credible. A shame that she believed him. He's very ... how to say ... charismatic, isn't he? You would believe everything. He is just broken in his head. I don't know why she didn't see it as a psychiatrist. Maybe she didn't want to see it. After all, he was her "brother". With relatives you’re more likely to turn a blind eye.”

Then Shaw smiled sadly. But even his regretful smile was full of arrogance.

“I let Charles play a game that often went too far. But who am I to judge when a game goes too far, right, Erik? We both may have had a bad start and I understand that you are now on Charles’ side, but I don’t want to fully accept it yet. Maybe we can start again. This time with open cards on the table, what do you say? Let's start with you. Mr. Cop?”

Suddenly Shaw came very close to the glass. His voice grew muffled and far more dangerous.

“You were sent here to do exactly the same thing as Charles, right? Chasing a myth?”

"Are you trying to convince me now that I'm insane too?" Erik found his voice again. 'That I'm not a cop at all? Like Charles not an agent?”

“No, I know you are one. I have finally received your real file. You play great games with your department here. Just a shame that you are now a criminal and you will be left here right away. So you can say goodbye to your old life. And only because you fell for a charismatic murderer.”

Erik tried to ignore the accusation. Instead, he wanted to focus on the information that Shaw suddenly seemed to distribute so generously. Even if the story about Charles hurt enormously. _If_ he was right. “I was told there was an undercover cop. Where is the? If it's not Charles, who is it?”

"I don't know," Shaw said, suddenly getting serious. “I think it's cheeky to have two police officers smuggled in, but what should I do? In any case, there is nothing to be found here. I can't say where the policeman landed. He is certainly still here, but has assumed a different identity and changed his appearance. What Charles wanted you to believe. He has certainly copied a few ideas. Maybe it's just myths. Who knows who is fooling whom? By now, I can’t figure it out anymore.”

"How can someone change his appearance so much that the many cameras and the inmates no longer recognize him?" Something Erik had been wondering for a long time.

"Prostheses," Shaw gestured on his face. “Professionally glued. And if you dye your hair and have a beard shaved off or grown," he looked at Erik's appearance, which was by now almost unrecognizable, "then it can be difficult to identify someone. Especially when you have help from other prisoners. I boast that I know a lot, but I don't know everything. Maybe he's dead too. With the many bodies we sometimes find here, it's hard to tell who it was. Especially when the DNA samples are useless. There were a couple of men we thought it was the cop. But ultimately, we cannot be sure. The fire had cleared all traces.”

Erik felt his pulse speed up. How could Charles have deceived them all like this? Wasn't he really an agent? But his stories had been so watertight!

Then again: Why shouldn't the cameras work? Why should Shaw leave them alone in C? Why should a prisoner be allowed to walk through a prison like that? Charles was good, but was he _that_ good? After all, he murdered very professionally. If you had done it all your life?

“I see you are also beginning to doubt Charles' stories. That's why I want to give you a little tip that may help you: Charles suffers from a dissociative disorder. He thinks he's someone else, but he's not. It is not necessarily schizophrenia, since we suspect that he actually knows exactly who he is and who he is not. He's so caught up in his lies that he starts to believe those lies himself.”

Shaw finally sighed and put his hands in his pockets.

“Shawn Candy? He doesn't exist. Charles is right about that. But basically, he kind of exists because Charles _is_ Candy. Almost all of the murders that happened somehow in his name went on Charles’ head. He strewed all the crazy stories himself. And instead of acknowledging this truth, he sees this Shawn Candy as someone dangerous. Like his old personality. An arch enemy. Something he can't beat. Something that acts like a person but is not. As if he could somehow push his past away and portray him as a crazy murderer who - what did he tell? - murdered and raped girls? And now does its mischief in prison like a ghost?”

"It doesn't make sense ..." Erik whispered, looking down at the floor.

"It does," Shaw said, shrugging his shoulders. “He's good at telling stories and believing them himself. I do not deny that he is a talented man and can do very well in close combat. He is also very intelligent, because if you tell such sophisticated stories, you really have something on the ball. Nonetheless, he's a dangerous man and I was hoping you'd see that sooner. But apparently love flows here. As I suspected a while ago, sometimes it is both what drives a man so far, isn't it? Love and power.”

Erik felt his whole world crumble. If Charles wasn't the cop, who was it? And why would Charles swindle him like that? Did he believe his own lies? Who was Charles now? A violent murderer? Or just a helpless soul that had slowly lost its mind?

"Why are you telling me all this now?" Erik mumbled, still staring at the floor.

“So you understand what's going on. You two wanted to bribe my bodyguard to get some absurd secret files. That definitely went too far. You also wanted to break out. I have to draw a line here too. This game ends now. Charles is already in an isolation cell far from here. You will come back to cell block C. Meanwhile, the good tucker is patched up. The poor guy. Got into the crossfire.”

“Then why did you kill Oscar? And why was there a mic in the mouse?” Erik listened, his questions just piling up in his head.

“I didn't have Oscar killed. Why should I do that? He was a good man who did his job very well,” Shaw defended himself. “I think Oscar was murdered by someone who didn't want you to snoop on my things. Which should be fine with me, but I liked Oscar.” His eyes went ruefully to the floor for the first time. "It hurts that he got into this war that I seem to be waging with the inmates."

"It doesn't make sense," Erik repeated like being possessed by a ghost, and didn't dare to look up.

“I'll find out who it was. Probably a few gang members who were involved with one of my cooks. Someone seemed to be fucking someone else. I don't want to deny that there are any strange stories going on here. But usually I go right behind it. What kind of prison director would I be if he didn't have his prison under control?”

He sighed loudly.

“I can't tell you why there was a microphone in your mouse. This bug didn't go to me. Either dear Tucker is more than we thought or it was Scott. I will interrogate both. Until then, we have to wait for the answers. But don't worry, Erik, you have enough time to think about everything. By the time it hits your wits, I'll probably be able to rush you to the rescue with a satisfactory answer before your synapses can come up with their own. I don't want you to end up like Charles.”

"You may be playing with my psyche," Erik began, finally daring to look up, "but the fact that an undercover cop was used for mafia and money laundering can't be easily wiped off the table."

“You're right, Erik. And it's our turn. Because I don't like the fact that the government smuggled a second policeman into my prison. I don't like being spied on. Even in such a sneaky way.”

Emma cleared his throat suddenly and nodded that they had to go. Shaw sighed and straightened his jacket. He eyed Erik from top to bottom and bit his lip.

"I will send you back now. Think about everything. In any case, you won't see Charles again. Maybe I'll even order a transfer. He's been causing me a lot of trouble lately. And you two don't seem to be a good duo together.”

He started walking. Emma followed him closely. "See you soon, Erik."


	24. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter:  
> \- planned murder

The way back to cell block C felt unrealistic. Like everything he'd seen lately was fake. If Charles had never gone crazy, they could both have lived with the lie. The lie that had been so _perfect_.

So did Erik really trust a murderer? A sick person who had driven him so far to have committed his own murder?

Back in his cell, he saw Charles' things. His bathrobe, his soap, his clothes, his bed. None of this had been cleared out. As if in slow motion, he sat down on Charles' bed and dropped into the pillows. Everything hurt. His legs, his arms, his whole body and especially his heart. Erik no longer knew what to believe.

Blaming Charles entirely, as Shaw had done, was not fair. Erik was an independent being which was able to think on its own. An adult who could choose whether to harm someone or not. Certainly, Charles played the little devil here and there on his shoulder, but it didn't seem right to blame Erik for all of this.

So what should he do now? Stay in C? Carve out his miserable existence? Or do something? But what could he do? What if Shaw had his eyes everywhere?

The next day Erik was sitting alone in the common room staring at the tabletop. He already missed Charles' closeness. The not so subtle stroking of the hands, the kisses and the loving looks.

Finally, an inmate sat down with him. Bald-headed and with tattoos on the face.

"What happened?" he asked with a constantly crooked face. Finally Erik recognized the guy. They had spoken to each other in the canteen before. The blatant gangster. The one who somehow couldn't speak normally.

“He was put in an isolation cell. So ... he's somewhere else.”

"Shit," the guy murmured, biting his lip. "The two square meters cells?"

"I don't know," Erik said, looking up. "Do you know more about it?"

The guy shrugged as if he didn't care, but actually he seemed pretty agitated. “These are cells without light, man. They put you in there and you practically only sit in the dark. No toilet, no bed, nothing at all. Basically, you're forced to shit in the corner. But they get you out every three hours. You can go to the toilet, stretch your legs and then you have to go back in. The cells are just so big that you can lie down, but nothing more.”

"Not for claustrophobia," Erik murmured, nervously teasing his nails. If Charles was crazy before, he would be even more weird after the isolation therapy. Who thought such a cell would do anything?

"What's this? Claus-something?” the guy asked, but Erik just waved it off.

"How long will they keep him there?"

“I don't know, man. Maybe a week? Maybe two?”

Erik looked down at the ground. "That is long."

And then he remembered that Shaw might even move Charles. So it was in the stars whether they would ever see each other again.

"Yes, above all, the guards seem really bad with you," said the crass guy and finally got up. “You're hosed down with a water hose. Really bad. But Charles will rock it. He is tough. After all, he’s already been there.”

Erik looked up immediately. “Yes, I've heard it several times. When was that exactly?”

“Before he was in charge here. Two weeks or so over there, then he came back and was totally different. Quiet. But more dangerous. Everything he was doing was suddenly well thought out. Real CIA shit.”

Erik just nodded silently. Charles allegedly hadn't initiated anyone into his " _lie_ " of being an " _agent_ ". But apparently, he had wrapped everyone around his finger as far as his appearance was concerned. With his many different personalities, he had let everyone play for himself. But who was the right Charles? Or was there none?

The guy patted Erik on the shoulder once and then left. Erik was alone again and spent the rest of the day in his cell. Still nobody picked up Charles' things. It was a suffocating feeling to be reminded every time that he might never see Charles again and all that was left to him was a memory of a liar.

The restlessness gripped Erik. Not only that he wanted to confront Charles, but also because he was still sticking to his plan to leave the prison. The next day, he went to the tattooed guy during the shower time. "Where are these little cells?"

He was eyed by the others at an angle, but no one seemed to say anything about Erik chatting to the guys in the shower. To be Charles’ boyfriend seemed to keep most of them at their distance. What had previously made Erik shudder now amused him to a certain extent: he had done everything to not become Candy's whore, but what had happened? Exactly that.

"Somewhere behind the administration, I think," the guy said, scratching his bald head. "Charles had said something about it."

"They're at block B!" another guy called, whom Erik didn't ask, but had heard the conversation. "Andrew was in there only recently after being caught with a guard!"

“Hm, yes it can be. Or somewhere at the day care centres. Where they all do their training. I'm not sure,” the guy added again, leaving Erik annoyed. There was no point questioning these uninformed guys. He had to get information from somewhere else.

And as if the devil had answered his prayers, the next day he received the longed-for answer to his restlessness. Erik could hardly believe his eyes when a guard pushed his food in through the small slot and there was a piece of folded paper on it. He quickly opened it and read it carefully. It wasn't from Charles.

It was from Tucker.

"Meet me at the infirmary," he read softly, blinking a few times. Tucker wanted to see him. After what had happened, somehow understandable. But then again not. Maybe he wanted to explain himself. Above all, the mic in Wanda.

Erik immediately wanted to follow the suggestion, but how was he supposed to get to the infirmary? Hurt yourself again?

No, it had to be easier.

"Hey, sorry," he tried to get a guard's attention that afternoon. When the guy turned around, Erik tried to use all his acting talent. “My wound here on my stomach ... it has hurt again since yesterday ... can you take me to the infirmary? Maybe something split open…”

The guard looked in his direction in disbelief. However, when Erik pulled up the shirt and saw a blue-violet cut that healed really poorly, the guard raised his eyebrows in disgust and finally nodded.

Erik was amazed that he was handcuffed and taken away so quickly. Did the wound really look that bad?

The way to the station was another little adventure. They stared at him with wide eyes. They were afraid of him. They kept their distance. And Erik _liked_ it.

He only had to wait a short time in the infirmary before he was taken to a treatment room. However, he saw no Tucker. He was probably in the bedding room where Erik had been when he had two operations. The young doctor, who was apparently supposed to replace Raven, was shocked that the wound healed so badly.

"Do you do sports? You know you can't do sports!” the doctor reprimanded, smearing a thick ointment on the wound and bandaging it again.

"A few things happened where I had to move," he admitted bluntly, remembering the wrangling in the shower. And a lot of good sex with Charles. "I couldn't always lie still."

“You don't have to, but please be careful not to undertake strenuous activities. At least for a week. Try it.” he sighed and wrote a few words into a file. “I'm going to give you medication that can relieve inflammation. You don't need antibiotics yet, but please come back if the wound doesn't improve. Especially if the wound should wet or fester.”

Erik just nodded silently and tried to look out of the treatment room. Some men with violets and small cuts, but no Tucker.

Finally there was a loud rattle from the hallway. An occupant overturned and tore down a water dispenser. He was writhing on the floor and moaning confused stuff.

"Oh dear -" Erik heard the doctor say. He jumped up quickly and looked horrified between the occupant and Erik.

“Go, it’s fine. I'll stay here,” he said, pointing to the handcuffs that were chained to the couch.

Just when the doctor had left the room and Erik was already thinking about how he could sneak out unnoticed without squeezing the whole couch through the door, Tucker came into the room. He wore a thick bandage around his chest and pushed around an IV stick that was still attached to his arm. In general, he didn't look good, but he was on his feet and was accountable.

"Tucker," Erik breathed, trying to get up from the couch, but didn't get far because the couch didn't move a millimetre. Probably screwed down too. "I'm so sorry ... how are you?"

His friend sighed softly and nodded slowly. Eventually he sat next to Erik and held his shoulder. "It’s okay. It hurts a lot. But it's not the first gunshot wound I had.”

"Nevertheless. That should not have happened."

“I should have seen it coming, but I hoped you would take a more relaxed path. You and Charles.”

Erik blinked a few times. Tucker just turned his head to him quietly and looked him in the eye for a long time. The funny man who always had a stupid saying or had some gossip on his lips was suddenly gone.

That made Erik smile carefully. "And who are you? In this silly game here?”

"Your colleague," he said softly, raising both eyebrows. He let the information sink for a moment until another groan could be heard from the corridor. The man who was obviously simulating kept the doctor away from Erik a little longer. “Seen from further away, anyway. I was never a cop. I was really a drug dealer. But I was offered this deal. If I were successful, I would be released. On probation and stuff. So I thought: what harm can it do? I would end up in prison anyway. So I hit it.”

Erik released a surprised chuckle. “You were the undercover cop? The whole time…"

“I didn't know who you were, Erik. Only through Wanda did I learn the truth. Otherwise I would have shown myself much sooner. After the fiasco of the past few months, I could use some support.”

"So Charles is really just a ... murderer."

"Yeah, he is," Tucker whispered, closing his eyes as if he felt remorse. "Who told you?"

"Shaw. After the incident, he put me back in one of those plexiglass things. Told me everything cockily. Somehow everything still sounds like a big lie. I don't know who I can trust or who I can't trust.”

Tucker nodded sympathetically. "I understand that. I also understand that you don't necessarily trust me. I could have made myself known in the shower and in the canteen, but Charles had always been there. And since he really wanted to be the undercover agent, I would have put him in trouble. I couldn't assess the consequences that followed, so I said nothing.”

Erik nodded silently and looked sadly at the ground. The pressure behind his eyes grew stronger. But he pulled himself together not to cry. He hadn't cried all the time - not even now.

“But he wasn't always a crazy killer, Erik. He came here shortly after me. Straight to C. He was never in B or A. He is sick, Erik. He has a psychological illness. You know that now, don't you?”

"Yes," he nodded slowly, looking down.

“If he took his medication, he'd be much better off. At least, that's what I heard when we were in the infirmary at the same time after being beaten up again. He lives in a delusion that isn't right no matter how you see it.”

"He created Candy," Erik said, making eye contact again. “Pretending to be an intelligence agent. Where did he get the nonsense from?”

"Probably from a movie," Tucker laughed, and shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe something picked from the truth too. When I was tracked down, I had to go into hiding. I actually had no hair and a lot of beard. Now I have no beard and a lot of hair. The tattoos here ... I will regret them,” he laughed softly and stroked his arms and neck. "Tucker isn't my real name either."

"Nobody's called after a stupid car brand," Erik agreed with a laugh. Even if it was a sad one.

“Right, but you believed it. Like everyone here,” Tucker winked, holding out his hand to Erik. "Logan Howlett."

“Hi, Logan. I'm still Erik.” They shook hands briefly. "But I actually liked Tucker quite well."

Then his buddy laughed. “I don't mind if you keep calling me Tucker. Would be better in this environment anyway.”

“So Tucker was actually a lie. Wow. Apparently, I'm the only one who plays with open cards here.”

“No, we're all playing with open cards now. It is time for the tide to turn. That is why I am here. You crushed my previous offers to help. But now I hope you realize that I can actually help you. Because I trust you, bub. Take Shaw down.”

"Do you think he's the bad guy here?" Erik asked, looking at Tucker for a while.

"Definitely. He may have been right about Charles, but otherwise he's wrong. He's not a hero or a saint who gathers the poor sheep here.” Tucker closed his eyes briefly. He moved a little closer to Erik to speak even more subdued. “I'm sorry I had to bug Wanda. But I wanted to make sure that you and Charles weren't going to twist things. Wanda really should just take care of you. Nothing else."

Erik just stared into Tucker's eyes for a while. So the bug was from him. That might still make sense somewhere, but why - "Who killed Oscar then?"

His buddy pressed his lips together. “It actually had nothing to do with you. Stupid coincidence. Oscar was involved in a fight between the cook and an inmate. They wanted to break up somehow. Fully backfired. Oscar probably wanted to help the guard, when the inmate slaughtered him and hung him on the door. It served as a sign for the guard and maybe his ex-boyfriend, not for you.”

"Oh, this prison will drive me crazy one day," Erik whispered, scratching his wrist. "How do you know all that?"

"I don't just have a Wanda," he admitted, waving his hand into space. “I installed a few bugs here and there. The whole thing goes on a cell phone, which I hide in my cigarette boxes. When it comes to hiding illegal things, I'm a professional, you know,” he joked, winking briefly. “Anyway, I've collected some little information that I'll distribute in time. To do this, however, this information must reach the outside. No signal comes through the prison and outside. They have set up disturbance posts. And since I heard you were going to break out anyway ... maybe I was thinking of hiring you as my messenger.”

"Don’t you want to get out too?" Erik asked, looking at his friend in surprise.

“Yes, of course. Back to my wife and children,” he sighed, but shook his head immediately. “But if I continue to behave so well, I can go on probation anyway, you know? I don't want to ruin that now. That's why I advised you to stay calm. Basically, that's what Charles advised you to do too. One of the few clear moments from him.”

"Hey ... he's not as bad as everyone portrays it ..."

"I even believe you," Tucker agreed. “But he has to take his medication. He cannot live on in this lie. When he got in here, he was a scared man who didn't understand why he was here. A little solitary confinement, a few rapes and I tell you: that changes everyone. You did him good. If unfortunately, in a somewhat wrong direction. Maybe you can do it better. And both get away from the madness.”

“He's in solitary confinement again. That scares me. And I can't get to him,” Erik murmured when he saw the doctor briefly walk past their room. But he didn't notice Tucker at all, and continued to ran back and forth frantically. The simulator was still screaming.

“I can tell you where to find him. Do you remember my job?”

Erik nodded.

"Behind those rooms. A long walk. I have never been there myself, but there is also an emergency exit. Leads to the yard where the collection point is in the event of a fire. I can help you two to escape. Once you're outside, it has to be quick. I will tell you where you will hide the records. It is not far from here. A buddy of mine will collect the things and eventually take them to the police. I will mention you by name. Maybe they'll reduce your sentence.”

"Not necessary," Erik growled. "I don't mean to go back to my old life."

“I thought so. After everything that happened, a restart would not be a bad idea.” Finally he got up. “Find a way to Charles. As soon as he is outside, activate the fire alarm. I will make sure that chaos breaks out. Maybe a little riot. I will then give you the cell phone with the records in the yard where the collection point is. From there you can possibly escape through the main gate. A large parking lot with many emergency vehicles is often unguarded when chaos breaks out. The guards then have their eyes somewhere else. That would be your chance.”

“This is helpful information. I'll have other things to do beforehand, but I'll get back to you.”

"Take the time you need. I will inform my colleagues that when the fire alarm begins the uprising will start as well. Basically, I and the others will be on call. The fire alarm is the start signal.”

"Thank you, Tucker," Erik said wholeheartedly and nodded again to his buddy. "Get well soon."

“Thank you, bub. And be careful. The isolation tract is not particularly guarded, but everything in front of it is even more so. Besides, Shaw's eyes are on you like a mother on her baby.”

"Let's just hope he's a bad mother and gets easily distracted," Erik smiled, waving to his buddy before disappearing around the corner.

In fact, it didn't take long for the simulator to stop crying. When the doctor returned, Erik was quickly given medication and then brought back to his cell.

He would have liked to be more surprised at the whole thing, but nothing could shock him anymore. Maybe Emma was a unicorn and Hank was actually a werewolf. Who knows? Erik now believed in everything.

At night he slept in Charles' bed again. It hardly smelled of him. But it was enough that Erik missed him. No matter who he was. Or what bothered him. Erik would get him out and they would start over somewhere outside. Charles just had to take his medication. Then everything would be fine. Because Erik had the constant anger and the urge to kill under control.

At least, that's what he believed.

An outbreak was more difficult than expected. Above all, when the previous go-out times at night ceased and there were no contacts outside of the cell. Erik had to work with what he had. And that was himself and his previous ideas, who piled up during his prison term.

He studied the guards very carefully. When they were where, how they looked like and how they behaved. The guard who was seduced by Charles was still under surveillance in block C. However, he paid little attention to Erik. He must have been scared of what had happened. Instead, Erik's attention fell on another guard. The one who always let Charles and Erik hold hands so generously when they were sitting in the common room. The one who hadn't said a word about it when Erik was illegally in Charles' cell.

Erik guessed that this guard was the easiest to convert. Somewhere he was sorry that he had picked him. But he looked very much like Erik and that was a plus. The only problem: he had been light blonde. Erik had to change that.

Two days later - and Erik hated himself for having Charles wait in solitary confinement for so long - he went up to the gangster bald guy again and spoke to him. There were no cameras in the showers, but he still had to be careful.

"Quick question," he began to speak lightly but decisively to the guy and his buddies. "You don't plan to kill someone soon by any chance, do you?"

The three guys who stood around Erik got big eyes and said nothing at first. Finally the gangster spoke up. "Why? Do you have a problem with someone?”

"Oh, yes, with Shaw," Erik grinned wearily, raising his eyebrows. “He hurt me a lot by tearing Charles out of my hand. And if I don't like something, it's when my property is taken away from me.”

He exaggerated excessively. But if Charles could work with stories from film and television, why not Erik too? So he let out the dangerous bloke that everyone here loved and feared.

Indeed, the gangster pressed his lips tightly and seemed to buy the stitch. “We all hate Shaw. He uses us. But we can't kill him, man. Nobody gets to him.”

"I do," Erik smiled, blinking in thought. “But that's only the point later. Now I just have to communicate with cell block A. For that we have to sit in the canteen with them.”

"So you want us to kill someone to shut down C?"

Erik smiled broadly. "Well recognized. And twice please. Once tonight and then the following night again.”

The gangster and his friends frowned at him. “You play with fire, but it doesn't matter. Charles trusted you. You seem to be okay, if weird.”

Erik just smiled and waited for approval.

The gangster smacked as if he had something hanging between his teeth and played with his tongue at the gap in his mouth. "OK. Who do you want to have dead if not Shaw himself?”

“I don't really care. Someone who you can't smell or who is disturbing the cigarette business. It doesn’t matter. The time just has to be right. And that you do it two nights in row. The best way is without paying unnecessary attention to us. It should look like an accident. Or an act of revenge among gangs. Nothing important, do you understand?”

The boys looked at each other in confusion, but nodded like good dachshunds. “We have a guy in mind. His name is Ben. We think he makes his own money instead of throwing it into the pot for everyone and – “

"Yes, I don't know about your business, that was Charles' part," Erik interrupted his temporary lackeys. "It is important that you place the bodies in C in such a way that our block is locked and we will eat together with block A."

The three tattooed guys from Erik’s boyband were still not quite sure, but made no objection and agreed.

"Can I rely on you?" Erik asked pointedly, raising his eyebrows to look tougher. He was beginning to understand Charles. It was a bit of fun shooing dense men around.

All three nodded. Erik thanked them and showered off with the fragrant soap. So his plan should somehow work.

While he waited patiently for the next day, of course he had to take care of one more thing. So he deliberately threw his entire dinner on himself and on the shelf with the changing clothes. By coincidence, he had already put Charles' things in a corner and saved them. When a guard came over and saw Erik cursing, he sighed loudly.

"Got a mess on your face?" he asked annoyed, watching Erik try to get the hollandaise sauce out of his shirt.

"Yes ... and my spare clothes too," he sighed, looking at the guard resignedly. With wide eyes he blinked in his direction. "Can I have something else?"

He groaned loudly. "The laundry is closed."

“I know, but I don't want to sleep in my clothes. And it's too cold to be naked here.”

The guard sighed again, as if his job was the worst on earth. “I can get you a replacement. What size do you have?"

"L, please," he said as politely as possible.

The guard rolled his eyes and disappeared from Erik's field of vision. He came back in less than three minutes - with a fresh set of inmate clothes. "There," he grumbled, pushing them through the slot that was supposed to be for food.

Erik thankfully accepted the clothes. “When can I hand in the dirty ones? Are there any times?”

"Don't know," he murmured, patting the back of his machine gun on the floor as if it were stimulating his mind. Suddenly he screamed down the hall. "Hey Kai, when’s laundry?"

"Why?" a male voice came from another part of the hall.

“The guy here put food on his two sets of clothes. What do you do with it?” Erik’s new favourite guard replied, snuffling several times.

"Oh, he can give them to a guard at the community meeting tomorrow."

The guard at Erik's cell turned to him and shrugged. "There you have your answer."

Unfortunately, it wasn't the answer Erik wanted to hear. “I hope they can wash the sauce out tomorrow. I don’t want them to bother with stains,” he joked, slowly undressing in front of the guard. Maybe it distracted him enough.

Indeed, the guard watched Erik getting out of the dirty clothes and didn't move. “Don't worry about it. We have enough laundry here.”

"I believe that. In terms of quantities, the laundry is not very big. It's not going to be washed here, is it?”

"No, a company does that."

Erik nodded with interest and took off his pants. He deliberately went over his underpants with a dirty spot. He swore softly as if it had been an accident. The guard was still staring at Erik, who was now taking off his underwear. He was now completely naked in his cell. “Is there a time by which I have to hand in the laundry? Not that I'm missing the deadline. Because I would like to get a replacement set then.”

The guard stared at Erik's big cock. Sex sells, as always. Erik felt dirtier than his inmate's clothes, but he did what he had to do.

“Uh, I don't know. Guess before 3 p.m. In any case, the cart with the laundry always leaves at that time.”

Erik smiled fondly at the guard. “All right. Got it. Thank you."

The guard smiled back ignorantly and took one last look at Erik's genitals before pulling away. Erik kept a watchful eye on the guard for a few moments and grinned at him. When he was finally gone, his grin also dried up and he quickly got dressed again. His dinner was cancelled for today, but it was worth it. Erik now knew when the laundry car was leaving.

In fact, something went finally according to plan. The morning was shaped by a lot of whispering and turmoil. The guards gathered all the inmates and led them to the canteen. Erik's men nodded to him. So the mission had been successful.

On the way to the canteen, Erik heard that it hit someone from block B. Slashed open in the laundry. _Yikes_ , Erik thought, hoping that the keeper with whom he had talked so generously about the laundry would have no suspicion.

In the canteen he finally saw the man he wanted to meet: Tucker. Erik still had to sit in his seat and wait until he was allowed to get his meal. But his buddy had already spotted him and smiled at him. He knew immediately that Erik wanted to see him. When the two of them finally got to the food counter, they tried to concentrate on the food that was in front of them and less on the fact that they were discussing secret things.

"I was afraid you were still in the infirmary," Erik laughed, patting Tucker on the shoulder anyway.

“They hardly keep anyone there for more than two days. Was a clean bullet. It’s fine with a lot of painkillers,” Tucker chuckled, taking a pudding. Erik did the same. "What can I do for you?"

Both of them leaned closer to the middle. "I'd like to dye my hair."

"I don't think you’re talking about going to the hairdresser," Tucker muttered, looking around curiously. He checked to see if anyone was listening to them. They didn't have much time; the guards were impatient at the end of the food line.

“I have to go blonde. Can you get me something for breakfast until tomorrow?” Erik whispered, looking at Tucker with wide eyes.

"I'm suspended from work," Tucker breathed back. "Because I beat up my cellmate."

"Oh shit," Erik swore, biting his lower lip. He had forgotten about that.

Tucker patted Erik on the shoulder. “I can do it anyway. No problem. Platinum? Or natural blonde?”

The question alone made Erik smile. The good old tucker knew his way around. "Platinum please," Erik smiled happily and nodded to Tucker. "You are the best. Thank you."

With that, their paths separated again and Erik ate his meal in the midst of his lackeys, who were watching him with waiting eyes. They seemed to want to hear the next instructions. Erik held back a little until they were back in the shower.

"You did a good job," he said, praising his boyband, where everyone had probably no higher IQ than room temperature. But killing – that’s where they were good at.

"Thank you, boss," said one of the three, nodding in satisfaction.

 _Boss_. Wow. Fast ascent. Charles would have been proud of him.

"The same game again tonight, right?" Erik made sure the guys still remembered the plan. All three nodded as if in a trance.

“We have one from our own guys. He's annoying,” said Gangster-Boy, causing Erik to raise an eyebrow.

“Did he deserve it? Nobody from my own ranks seemed to have caught my eye.”

"Andrew, man," said another. “He screwed that up with the sex cellar guy. He slept with the guard he banged with.”

"Man, that was a love triangle," Gangster-Boy sighed, and all three men shook their heads. "Maybe everything would have gone well and Charles would still have been here if he hadn't screwed it up like that."

Erik knew that Shaw would have pulled the rip cord anyway, but he could still feel the fury rising. "Okay. Andrew tonight. And maybe park his body somewhere else. The laundry is not so safe anymore.”

All three men nodded again. Like the chickens on the perch, they stood lined up in front of Erik, who rubbed the soap here and there. The smell of mango brought back memories. He missed Charles. _So much_.

"Then where should we park him instead?"

“Here in C? In his cell? No idea. Just not in the laundry, please,” Erik sighed and finally turned. “You can do it. You are good guys. You will receive the reward tomorrow.”

The men suddenly looked around with wide eyes, but said nothing. They probably hadn't expected anything in return. Erik would hand over the machinations of block C to them. Charles and he wouldn't be here much longer anyway. He could just as easily pass the crown on.

In the evening Erik lay down in Charles' bed and probably only smelled himself and less his lover. But the mango smell was omnipresent.

He missed his crazy friend who was hysterical and far too emotional. Who imagined he was an agent. But actually wasn’t.

None of this changed the fact that Charles was an attractive, intelligent, and most of all, amiable man. Erik missed his red lips, brown hair, little freckles on his nose, and deep blue eyes that often looked at him so longingly. Erik couldn't remember the last time someone had given him such unconditional love. Charles had never asked for anything back except for a few kisses and hot sex in the shower.

When the light went out and Erik was alone with his thoughts, he felt the lust overwhelm him, so that he eventually masturbated. With his nose pressed deep into Charles' pillow, he thought of his lover and how much he would want to sleep with him. Calm. Peacefully. Lovingly. Only to be able to sleep in his arms afterwards.

Maybe Erik was slowly losing his mind in all the chaos. But in the past few years he had never felt as good as now. So free even though he was caught. So loved even though his friend wasn't with him. So powerful even though he actually had nothing.

The next morning, block C was drummed out of the cells again. The bloodbath, which spanned almost the entire corridor, puzzled Erik. Finally it came out that the victim Andrew bit the dust, but one of the gangsters also was gone now. Who would have thought that a multiple killer slept under the pillow with a homemade knife.

"It's okay," the gangster boy said at the loss they had suffered as they moved handcuffed to the canteen. “He was acting extremely stupid. He was to blame all alone."

Erik nodded in relief. After all, they didn't blame _him_ for the death of one of their comrades. As they walked down the aisle like a school class, he saw all the cameras hanging on the ceiling again.

That made Erik a little puzzled. "How do you get out of your cells at night?" he asked quietly, blinking at his new buddy. He smacked his chewing gum.

“A night watchman lets us out. Is addicted, you know? Needs our stuff. For that he lets us out for a few hours at night.”

Erik's eyes widened. "You sell drugs?"

Gangster boy shrugged. "Yes. Charles never wanted that, but ... we did it anyway. Good money. Don't tell Charles, okay? Doesn't want to end up in the dumpster.”

"Where do you get the drugs from?" Erik asked, staring at the many cameras hanging from the ceiling. Shaw had been very calm so far. He was probably still dealing with police matters after finding out that Erik was sent as a cop. MacTaggert wouldn't have an easy time of it. The added murders are sure to have given him a lot more paperwork.

Good for Erik.

"I don't know," the gangster boy said, shrugging his shoulders. “We always pick them up in these lockers, you know? When we need new stuff, we throw a coin into such a locker and don't lock it. Then the next day we'll have the drugs in there.”

“Has anyone ever watched the lockers before? Who gets them in there?” Erik couldn't imagine that neither Tucker nor Charles had ever got behind that.

“We have to go to cells during the day. How should we stand in front of the lockers 24/7? They are in front of the showers near the guard room. You can't stand next to a guard and wait for nice weather.”

“So guards put the drugs in there? Then why should someone be addicted and come to you?”

The gangster boy spat his gum into a dirty corner before they reached the canteen. “Nah, man. An inmate does that. They're not guards.”

Erik felt his patience tear. He was beginning to understand what Charles meant by the impossibility of information about the drugs. The ones who ticked them off weren't any smarter than the ones who consumed them. But it was important information that Erik kept in mind.

In the canteen, he saw Tucker ready to start. His pants were bulging. That nobody noticed? When they got to the food counter, Tucker grinned and put an arm around Erik.

“How are you, old chap? Do we see each other more often now?” he said loudly enough for the guards to be able to overhear and consider the conversation as pointless.

"Maybe? But hopefully the murders will stop soon,” Erik grinned, putting an arm around Tucker's waist. Together they pushed their trays along the food counter.

"I miss you. I wish you would come back to me,” Tucker sighed dramatically, suddenly giving Erik a firm smack on the lips. Just as both Erik and probably every guard in the area looked surprised, Tucker put a small package in Erik's pants. And placed it right next to his dick. The moment was over as quickly as it had started and Erik had to admit that Tucker really had a knack for illegal smuggling; even if the wet kiss and the little subtle streaking of his penis were not necessary. No one had noticed that Tucker had given him a package.

"Haha," Erik laughed playfully, and finally pushed Tucker away. "I miss you too, my dear."

He laid his head on Tucker's shoulder again, whispered a thank you, and finally went back to the table with his meal. His colleagues from C looked at him with wide eyes, but didn't ask. Instead, as always, they seemed to be waiting for the next orders.

As promised, Erik handed the command to his gangster boy while wanting to leave the common room. He nodded in gratitude and bit his lip. "Ya sure Charles agrees?"

"I'm very sure," Erik agreed, smiling weakly. "But I can ask him when I see him again."

"How long will he stay there?" another inmate asked who was at the table.

Erik sighed and frowned. Absent-mindedly, he played with small threads of skin on his nails. "Not for long."

When the lights went out, Erik had to try to do things in the dark as best he could. He heard inmates fucking loudly, so at least he didn't have to worry about the volume of his doing. He mixed the powder with the liquid, as Tucker had written in his little letter. It even said that the package came from a colleague who had smuggled it out of work for Tucker. And that in turn had smuggled it for Erik. He assured discretion that Erik could only hope was true. As he smeared the stuff on his head without a mirror, he grinned. So far, the former criminal officer has done very well in the illegal world.

The stuff burned like fire and stank horribly, but he endured the 45 minutes it took to make his hair blonde. While he washed out the mass upside down in the sink, he could already see small, light blond strands hanging over his eyebrows.

 _Perfect_ , Erik thought proudly, drying his hair with a towel. He crumpled up the remains of the colouring and wrapped them in one of the bathrobes.

The next morning it was finally time to act. Erik had hardly slept, but he dutifully shaved his beard over the small sink. His smooth-shaven cheeks felt strange, but he had to part with his red fluff. After all, from now on the motto of camouflage was his priority number one.

He wrapped a prisoner t-shirt around his head to hide his hair. Erik suspected he looked like a sad cleaning lady, but there was no time for important fashion statements now. After a couple of guards looked at him strangely, the blonde guy Erik had chosen came over. Erik smiled sweetly, leaning against the cold stone wall. The blonde guard came curiously to his cell.

"What's on your head there?" he asked, chewing gum.

"A shirt," Erik replied truthfully, coming up to him and finally leaning against the plexiglass window. “I have had a fairly dry scalp since yesterday. I heard that if you let the hair dry in a T-shirt, it stores the moisture better.”

The guard laughed out loud. "I have never heard of that! Are you a fag or what?”

"Maybe?" Erik shrugged, still fluttered his eyes at him. "You know," he finally began, leaning forward a little further, "my boyfriend is in solitary confinement."

The guard nodded. "Yes, I heard it."

"That makes me lonely," he sighed as dramatically as he could. He hoped that his looks would cast a spell over him as it has always done. How everyone felt for him so far. "He always made me suck his cock, but now ... well, I'm not necessarily getting out of here. And I don't like the other inmates. Wouldn't you like to?”

Erik felt the guard go insecure. He laughed and shook his head, but he also bit his lip and stole a glance around him. "I can't let you out of here," he muttered, shrugging his shoulders.

"Don't worry," Erik smiled. "You can come to me."

The guard became uncertain again, but said nothing more. He seemed to be thinking about the offer. So Erik took the last step forward.

“Afterwards, if everyone is still outside in the common room at 2:00 pm, we could go back to my cell. Then there is nobody here and I can blow you. Just like that. It's quick too.”

"You bite my shit off, fagot," the guard grumbled; visibly fuelled by the thought of getting a blowjob.

Erik shrugged. It wasn't going to happen anyway, so he could keep spreading things into the absurd. “Then fuck me. But bring a condom with you. I don't like cum in my ass.”

That made his victim grunting in anticipation. "I am not gay."

Erik laughed out loud. “I wasn't either. But look at me now.” He turned a little and ran a hand between his buttocks. The light trousers clearly showed his crevice. "If you don't want to, there's nothing I can do, right?"

The guard snorted excitedly and finally pounded the window once. “All right. At 2 at your place.”

With that he disappeared. And Erik was preparing for the grand finale.


	25. Breaking the rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter:  
> \- murder (stabbing, shooting) - a lot of murder! Many people will die  
> \- strangeling  
> \- mentioning of torture

The going out started quite unspectacular. Erik went into the common room with everyone else, where Blondie was also in charge. Erik kept looking at him curiously and licked his lips. This prostitution was absolutely no fun and he didn't understand how Charles made it look so easy. The thought that he really needed to blow this man or let him have his ass made him sick. But nothing of the sort would happen, so Erik bathed in artificial self-assurance.

This became weaker the closer the hands of the big clock in the room came closer to the two. Finally Blondie left the post and came up to Erik. He looked bored - almost annoyed. “Your lover's things. They have to get out slowly. Pack them up now so I can take them with me later.”

Erik's pulse, which had been accelerating minutes ago, felt dead for a millisecond. Charles' stuff? Packing up? Take? Would he really be transferred now? Or was he already gone?

Suddenly he panicked.

"S-Sure," he began to agree softly, rising from the chair. The other inmates looked at him pityingly and sensed that Erik's heart was starting to hurt. As bad as the boys all were, they could be as empathetic when it came to relationships within this prison.

The blonde guard went back to the cell with Erik. As Erik walked on, he stopped briefly in the corridor. The man almost ran into him.

"Will Charles be transferred?" he asked uncertainly, feeling his whole plan collapse.

The blonde guard just shrugged. “Yes, of course. But I don't know what to do with his stuff.”

"Is he still here?" Erik asked. He was getting more and more nervous.

“How do I know? I'm just supposed to store his things somewhere.”

Erik bit his lip. What if he wasn't here anymore? What if Charles had been sitting somewhere else for days and was no longer around Erik? Had Erik waited too long? Wasted too much time on his plan?

Damn it; the feeling that he had lost him made him see asterisks.

"Go on," the guard grumbled, pushing Erik further down the hall. “And take that stupid shirt off your head. Your hair will be dry by now.”

When they finally reached Erik's cell, the guard put his machine gun on the aisle. He grinned.

"Not that you grab it and shoot me with it," he said amusedly, as if it wasn't an actual option for Erik to do just that. "Now take your clothes off, I want to do it quickly."

Erik took a few more steps into the cell to make sure there was no camera in the hallway to see them. He pulled the guard with him and started to open his belt. His cock was already half hard.

So much about _"I'm not gay"._

Reluctantly, he took the cock in his hand and pumped it a little until the guard knocked his hand away.

"Take your clothes off now, fucking fagot!"

Erik gritted his teeth and actually undressed. Until he was completely naked in the cell.

"Do you have the condom with you?" he asked quietly, watching the hallway that still seemed empty behind the guard.

The blonde man nodded and rummaged in his pocket. Erik took another deep breath until he pulled a plastic knife from the shelf and pressed it into the guard's throat. Vertical up - straight into the brain. Erik had always hoped that he would never have to use the grip they had taught him at the police. For emergency situations, of course.

He told himself that it was an emergency.

The blonde guard spat a little blood and died within a few seconds.

"You wanted it quickly," Erik whispered tensely as he carefully laid the lifeless body on the bed, "so we'll do it quickly."

He thanked the good plastic knife again for loyal service and hid it under the mattress. With quick fingers, he took off the guard's uniform, which thankfully had hardly got any blood on. Only on the shirt collar, but Erik could hide it well under the lapel of the uniform. Almost like a loving mother, he put the now naked man in his bed and put the blanket over him. He pinched the wound off with the shirt, which he finally pulled from his head. He stopped the bleeding a little with a tight knot. Now the guard looked like he was sleeping. Nobody would suspect. Erik meanwhile put on his underpants and uniform. He inspected the belt and even found a knife, an additional 9mm and a club. He finally found the most important thing in his pocket: the transponder. With it, Erik would hopefully get anywhere now.

He pulled the guard's cap deep into his face, snatched up his old inmate clothes, and finally walked out. He straightened his pants with affected movements and saluted the dead man as he tucked his gun under his arm from the aisle. The cameras should really capture every detail. It should look as if Erik was still in the cell and the blonde guard was walking his way.

But instead of going back to the common room, of course, he went to the laundry. He still had enough time, so he looked around the large room first. It was loud; louder than expected. Several sacks of laundry, some clerks and a couple of cameras. Not many, however. When an older lady noticed him standing a little lost at the entrance, she came up to him.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

Erik winced a little, but remained calm so far. As always. "Yes, you can," he began, pointing to the prisoner's clothing. “One of the inmates got dirty. I am so nice and want to bring him a new change. Where can I put the dirty laundry?”

The lady sighed softly. With her large breasts that passed almost seamlessly into her stomach and her wrinkled face, she looked like something out of a comedy. Erik liked her. “The sacks are right there in the room. Just throw them in there. There are new ones in the warehouse. I'll get you a change. What size do you need?”

Erik smiled gently. "L, please."

The good lady nodded, though annoyed, and finally went to another room. Erik watched her for a while until he slowly walked to the sacks of dirty laundry. A quick glance revealed that mainly strong guys laced the bags and threw them into containers. The room was very large. Somehow bigger than Erik remembered when he was here with Hank. But the gate outside, where the truck was probably loading the containers, was still there.

Once again, he went off the cameras with his eyes. Finally he went to a laundry worker.

"Excuse me," he said in his typical police voice. If he was good at something, it was in his former job. “I was told that a prisoner was moving freely around here. He is probably armed and does not wear his prisoner clothes. Are you and the other employees the only ones who have worked here in the past few hours?”

The man immediately looked at him with wide eyes. He eyed him briefly and immediately seemed intimidated. “Uh, yes. Yes, me and the three boys here. Tobi just got in.”

Erik nodded professionally. “Then could I ask you briefly to interrupt your work? I would like to verify your identity and control the room. After all, here is the dirty laundry. Nobody should get the idea to get outside through the transporter.”

The employee immediately nodded and went to his other colleagues to inform them. Everyone looked at Erik curiously and finally came up to him.

“No, no, one at a time. Wait outside and I'll get you in one by one,” Erik said firmly, pointing to the door. The five men nodded and stole a glance around. "I'll start with you." Erik indicated the first employee he had spoken to. The others actually went out well.

When they were alone, Erik went through the room first. He saw three cameras. With quick steps he ran towards them and pulled their cables. The employee watched him with interest, but said nothing. He probably hadn't noticed that Erik had cut the lines. But better safe than sorry, so Erik quickly came up with a lie.

“I'm just looking at the cameras. Supposedly the transmission didn't work, you know, why?” Erik asked as he turned off the last camera. Shaw might not notice until a few minutes later.

"N-No, sir," the man said uncertainly, simply standing in the middle of the room. "We don't do anything with it."

"I see," Erik sighed and came up to him. He looked at him for a while. The fear was written in his eyes. "What's your name?" He asked much more gently than before.

"Bruce O'Connor," replied the man who reminded him a little of an old colleague. Erik tried not to sympathize with him. The attempt failed.

"Do you have a family?"

Bruce nodded. "A wife and three children."

 _Oh_ , Erik hated himself so much sometimes. “Three children? That's nice."

Then the employee started to smile uncertainly. "Y-yeah ... but listen, I haven't seen anyone come in here without permission."

Erik already had his hand on his 9mm. Would he really kill a father? The blonde guard had been enough. Maybe he was a father too? Erik no longer knew what to do.

"Listen, Bruce," he finally sighed, coming closer to him. “I need something warm that stays warm for a long time. And I want to put it in one of the sacks.”

Bruce’s eyes widened, but he was silent.

"Help me and I'm not going to kill you," Erik muttered, looking at his weapon. "Don't help me, I'm forced to take your warm body."

As expected, Bruce started trembling all over. He hyperventilated and looked around the room nervously. Erik took a deep breath.

“I am willing not to hurt you. Just tell me where I can get something warm. Then I'll let you go and the others will never know about it.”

But Bruce didn't respond. Instead, he continued to look around. There was probably an emergency button somewhere. Or the fire alarm. But under no circumstances could it be activated.

"Something, Bruce," Erik tried to give him idea. "An electronic device that we could turn on ... Or is there an iron?"

Erik was ready to take any alternative. But Bruce didn't want to. Suddenly he ran as if stung from the tarantula and wanted to leave the room. Luckily, he didn't scream, but Erik was forced to end it quickly. The other employees were waiting outside. The old lady with the spare clothes should be back soon. Nobody should suspect and possibly activate the alarm.

Bruce finally fell to the ground when Erik grabbed him and swung his arm around. He bumped into a table that was pushed loudly across the floor.

“Why are you making it so difficult for me, Bruce? I would have let you live!” Erik hissed, finally leaning down to the man. He picked up a sack cord and wrapped it around his neck. Bruce gasped and struggled for his life.

Erik narrowed his eyes and hoped the moment would pass quickly. He was feeling so bad. So insanely bad.

When the man stopped moving, Erik let go. He immediately checked his pulse. It was still there. Weak but there.

Erik sighed in relief and first slid onto the floor next to the man. Resigned, he stayed there for a few moments, trying to calm down. Killing bad people was easy. Killing innocent people was a different number. Erik was glad that the man was still alive and that there was no more blood on his hands.

Still, he had to put Bruce in a sack and throw him in a container. Erik immediately took his knife from his belt and put it in a bag with Bruce in the sack. Hopefully it would help him to cut himself free if he woke up in the truck.

With effort, he hoisted the man into the container for dirty laundry. A bit hectic and still with shaky hands, he went to the gate and opened it with his transponder. The door opened and he disappeared outside. Here he had met Hank. Cameras would probably also be installed here, but Erik couldn't take care of them. Instead, he tried to find a way back into the building as quickly as possible. When he finally saw a door, he suddenly found himself in cell block B. Since he had never been there, he had to find his way around first. Fortunately for him, nobody seemed to notice him so far. The guards were chatting, the inmates in their cells and the cameras were probably half dummy here too.

As he walked down the hallways looking for an exit to administration, he kept thinking of Charles. Was he still there? Was he okay? Or had he lost him forever? What would he do if Charles was gone?

But Erik tried not to let emotions guide him. He had never been so insecure and secure at the same time. Killing people, packing innocent people into sacks and finally breaking out of prison with a mentally ill murderer? If emotions did that to you, maybe he didn't want them.

He kept checking the clock. It was just before three and he was close to the administration. He played with his machine gun and pretended to be absent-minded. From his seat he could watch the aisle in which he had stood so often.

In front of Shaw's office. In the anteroom. With the four guards. Erik's heart pounded when Emma suddenly burst out of the room. He tried to hide his face under the cap as best he could as she ran past him. With wide eyes, she seemed to be walking in the direction Erik had come from. Certainly, the laundry car has just been stopped. It would take a few minutes for them to find Bruce. Erik had to act quickly now.

He turned away and went around a corner. There was no one to be seen. So he pulled his 9mm and shot against the wall. He quickly ran back and looked at the guards outside Shaw's office with wide eyes.

“Someone is walking around armed! An inmate probably has a gun!” he shouted angrily, and would have preferred to throw himself out of the window because of his lack of acting talent. But the guards looked at him just as frightened and left their posts to run to Erik.

"Where's the inmate?" one asked, looking around.

"He ran towards B," Erik said angrily, pointing down the aisle. "I tried to stop him," he pulled up his bloody collar, "but he stole my knife and is now running again. I was so afraid!"

One of the guards was already heading towards B. The other looked at Erik for a while. "Have you already informed the other guards?"

Erik nodded. “But not all of them, I just ran away from him. It's my first day ...”

"Go back to your post, I'll let the administration know."

Erik bit his lip. He was getting tired of acting games. Time was running out. So he dropped the facade of the _helpless guard_. "No thanks, I'll do it. I've got an appointment with Sebastian Shaw anyway.”

The guard looked at him in confusion and was about to ask, when Erik pulled his 9mm and shot the man in the leg.

"Fuck!" he cried out and went down. Erik quickly snatched his machine gun from him, threw it at the other end of the hall, and hit the man hard in the face. It took exactly two blows to the neck and he was passed out.

Erik didn't want to kill. But he needed access.

So two guards were gone. The other two were still inside. They came rushing out as soon as they heard the second shot. Erik had to act quickly, so he shot them too. Unfortunately, he hit a guard on the neck. He fell to the ground, moved a little, and then lay there motionless.

"Shit," Erik huffed, walking quickly toward the guards. The other surviving guard was holding his bleeding shoulder and was about to grab his gun when Erik kicked him in the face. He immediately went down.

"So much trouble," he grumbled, rubbing his temples. He just wanted to get out. This prison, the guards, the inmates - just everyone was driving him crazy. Erik thought he was nuts as he watched one of the guards bleed to death. He remembered the albino he had slaughtered in the shower. What had got into him?

 _Love or power_. Or both, Erik remembered, and immediately looked at the door that would give him all the answers he wanted.

He crossed the small anteroom with quick steps and burst into Shaw's office.

It was empty.

"Damn it," Erik swore, pounding on a closet by the door. Shaw was probably already hiding in his bunker for fear of being murdered. And yes, that was exactly what Erik was up to. But first he needed answers - he owed it to Tucker.

So he went through the office with quick steps and rummaged through everything. He quickly grabbed the laptop and stuffed it into a briefcase that was on a chair. At first glance, the documents in the drawers were useless. In any case, Erik only saw prisoner reports and ordinances. Surprisingly, some transfers to other institutions, none of which were named Charles. The chances were that he was still in his isolation cell in prison.

A little annoyed, Erik wrapped the bag around his shoulder and ran out again. Guards had actually come over to inspect the men lying on the floor outside the door. Erik just ran quickly through the other door, hoping he hadn't been seen. The long corridor with nothing standing or hanging suddenly felt like a marathon route. Finally he saw the basement stairs and opened them. As he went down, he tried desperately to suppress any emotions he had associated with the last basement experience.

Once at the bottom of the sex cellar, he went through all the things again. Just toys, lubricants, and other things Erik didn't want to know what they were for.

"Come off it," he muttered angrily, searching the basement for doors. And indeed - finally - he saw a door hidden behind black velvet. Erik ran toward it with quick steps, but it was locked. Erik's transponder didn't open it either. Probably only Shaw had the key.

Annoyed, he slammed against it and kicked the metal, but nothing opened. A dead end.

"Disappointed?" he suddenly heard the voice of his tormentor behind him. "That you find nothing but sad truths?"

Erik quickly turned and aimed the gun at Shaw, who was of course also armed. Both had pointed the gun at each other. With slow steps, Shaw moved across the room.

"Open that door," Erik said in his best policeman's voice to cover up the nervousness.

"No, Erik, I won't," Shaw said, smiling cockily. His otherwise greasy hairstyle had suffered a bit. Some hair stuck out of his head wildly. “You really are an intelligent boy; I have to say. It is a shame that several people had to die for it. Are you feeling bad, Erik? Or are you already so well integrated that you actually feel pretty good?”

“Stop your psycho games. They don't work for me,” Erik growled, not knowing why he wasn't pulling the trigger. Shaw was very unlikely to shoot well. But then all the secrets would die with him. For the time being, he would have to confess to everyone. Everything - if only for Erik's conscience. "Are you responsible for the drugs?"

Then the man laughed out loud. Not taking the gun from Erik. “What’s that now? The villain's last interrogation before he gets shot?”

"Something like that," Erik murmured, not moving from the mysterious door. "If you're really innocent, I might let you go."

Shaw laughed out loud again. "It's hard to believe after you've murdered so many."

"Just admit it," Erik urged, slowly getting ants in the pants. Time was running out. He still had to fetch Charles, trigger the fire alarm, and find Tucker.

"You can stop playing the cop, my dear boy," Shaw shook his head and took a few more steps. “You are no longer a cop. Your dear boss officially wrote you off. You're fired. The only chance you have is to be transferred to psychiatry. But believe me, it's not that much better either.” He suddenly laughed. “Maybe it fucks better on neuroleptics? You and Charles would be a pretty crazy couple there!”

That made Erik blink the moisture in his eyes furiously for a few seconds. The truth in Shaw's words made him doubt his actions for a brief moment. Maybe they should just give up and go to the psychiatric clinic together. In any case, there were enough reasons for this. But he hadn't gotten far enough to give up now. “Where's Charles? Is he still here?”

"He’s already gone for a long time," Shaw laughed darkly, shaking his head. “You really think I'll leave Bonny and Clyde in one building after all that's happened? He was constantly screaming for you. _‘I want to see Erik! Let me see him!’_ But no, no, dear Charles, you are now taking your medication, shutting your dirty mouth, and then we are going to send you to some rotten place where no one will give a shit about you.”

That made Erik blind. The idea that Charles was tied to a bed somewhere where he was being pumped with medication to calm him down made his stomach acid soar. “You're a monster - whether you're dealing with drugs or not; You just deserve death!”

"You still believe in this mafia story? Okay, Erik, I notice you're nerve-wracking, so I'll play your game before you really shoot me, haha,” he laughed, as if he had a good line of cocaine before talking to Erik. “Maybe there are some drugs around here that I buy here and there. But it has nothing to do with the mafia. It's just money making, you know? It makes the whole thing funnier! That's all! You interpret too much in there.”

Erik had had enough of his games. He suddenly didn't care whether the man was lying or not. "I could just kill you like that ... but where's the fun in that," he whispered, taking a few steps toward Shaw. Suddenly he looked a little insecure and took his weapon with both hands. The way he held it; he wouldn't even hit Erik on the shoulder.

Erik had had enough. Of all. Charles was supposedly no longer there - who knows where. The transfer documents should be on the laptop. If necessary, Erik would break into another prison and get him out of there. Or in a psychiatric ward. Wherever Charles was - Erik would get him.

But he wouldn't believe Shaw until he was in the isolation cell himself and couldn’t find Charles.

"If you go on like this, Erik," Shaw began, taking a few steps away from his counterpart, "they book you into a maximum-security prison. This is no longer fun. If you think it sucks here? Wait and see how it is there.”

"The fun stopped long ago," he growled, and finally shot at Shaw's hand. He cried out, dropped the gun, and immediately bled on the black carpet. Erik came up to him with quick steps and grabbed his collar just to give him a firm kick in the stomach area. He immediately went down. Erik grabbed Shaw's weapon and put it in his belt. He stuck his own weapon in his waistband. “We're playing a game now. Because you like them so much.”

Shaw was dragged down on the floor by force. Again and again he shouted aggressively at Erik. “You will be shot immediately upstairs, I tell you! Immediately! You're dead before you see the light again!”

Erik felt like he was standing next to himself again. Like back then in the shower with the albino. Killing Shaw just like that would have been boring, so he strapped him to the horse.

To which he was once tied.

Of course, his tormentor struggled as best he could, kicking Erik in the face several times when his legs were fixed on the horse. "What are you up to? Do you want to fuck me now too? Yes? Is that it?"

"No," Erik grumbled, walking around the horse so they could look each other in the eye. He laced Shaw's face as hard as he could on the hard leather. “You are dirty. Disgusting. I don't touch you. But maybe there is someone else in this prison who wants you. I'm going to ask around.”

That made Shaw's grin weak for the first time. "So you want to feed me to the sharks?"

Erik searched Shaw for his keychain and cell phone. Eventually he found both and triumphantly put the bundle and cell phone in his pocket, where the laptop was. He had no time to look in the room himself and check whether one of the many keys was for the velvet door. Tucker had to do it for him. Or MacTaggert. “As you said, I keep coming ashore and pretend I'm not one of the many fish in your personal aquarium. And as you can see, I'm not one of them. Since I believe that you do not deserve a quick death, I will make you suffer - just as you made me suffer. I'll show you what it's like to be one of the many fish.”

With that he left, ignoring the screams and angry curses that Shaw uttered. He left the door open, sprinted up, and left the door open there too. Hopefully somebody would come and kill Shaw soon. As much as he wanted to be there: Charles was more important.

As Erik walked down the aisle, he heard screams and loud steps in the halls and adjoining rooms. Erik groped his way with absolute caution and peered into the anteroom. There was no one to be seen. So he took another step until he was back at the beginning of the administrative wing. The two guards were still there. In addition to them, three more. Everyone seemed dead. They were bleeding everywhere.

"Oh fuck," Erik huffed, looking around. Finally, he saw other inmates running down a hallway. Until one stopped and pointed to Erik.

“There is another one! Get him!”

Erik's eyes widened. "No, no, I'm not a guard!" he said, and immediately took off his cap. Even if he was blonde, the inmates recognized him immediately. Thank God he had become known all over the prison in the past few weeks.

"You're Candy's whore," one said, pointing to him. "Why are you wearing a guard’s uniform?"

"I wanted to save my boyfriend," he said softly, finally looking down. He dropped the cap. "But I'm probably too late."

"Boyfriend? Who is your boyfriend?” One of the inmates asked. Meanwhile, more inmates came into the wing looking for trouble. There seemed to be an uprising. Who started it?

"Charles," he breathed. But the men just shrugged their shoulders. So Erik added, "He was in an isolation cell."

"They locked the wing after blocks A and B were finally allowed to have a little bit of fun," said one, and continued running after Erik couldn't react quickly enough.

"Good luck, dude," said another man, and was about to leave when Erik stopped them again.

"Hey," he called after them. “You certainly don't like Shaw any more than I do. He is down there. In the basement. Tied him up. Eat him if you want. But don't kill him too quickly. He doesn't deserve a quick death.”

The men stopped immediately. "Are you kidding?"

Then Erik went down the aisle and made his way to the isolation cells. "No. Have fun with him!”

He then only heard the inmates shouting to more colleagues and all of them stormed into the basement.

Erik actually wanted to see Shaw suffered from all the men. What they would have done to him. What would have become of him. But _Charles_ \- Charles was more important. The hope that he might still be there lived in Erik.

Shaw had been a notorious liar, so why shouldn't he fib about Charles' whereabouts?

On the way to the isolation tract, he saw many familiar faces from block A. However, Tucker was nowhere to be seen. Hopefully he was fine.

Eventually Erik reached the sealed isolation tract. All doors were closed and two guards were armed in front of it. One of them came up to him immediately. "That’s a dead end for you."

"Why?" Erik asked, exasperated and out of breath. Good thing they still bought him for being a guard.

"Instructions from above," said another guard. “We should shut off the entire isolation tract. Nobody comes out, nobody comes in.”

Shaw was an asshole, but he was smart.

“Yes, I was with Shaw right now. I need an inmate. He should talk to Shaw about something,” Erik lied like a trooper. The guards didn't really buy it either.

"Order is order," he shook his head. "Shaw has to come and get the guy himself."

“Then who gave the order? If not Shaw?”

Of course, Erik was already asking too many questions. The guards became suspicious and approached him a few more meters. One of them even pulled out his gun and wanted to point it at him, but Erik was faster. He fired first.

What was left for him? Eat or be eaten. It didn't matter now, right?

He was careful not to kill them. With two precise shots in both legs, he let the guards go down and groan in pain. That gave Erik enough time to run past them. The other inmates would take care of the guards not to follow him.

It was loud in the isolation wing. The men from the small cells roared like mad and pounded on the walls. And in the middle of the very narrow, dark corridor, Emma stood with two guards. She turned to Erik, looked into his eyes, startled, and immediately stood behind her two guardians. They didn't ask - they just shot.

Erik was hit on the left arm, swore and shot back as best as he could. Panicked, he hit the two guards in the face. Headshots. Dead instantly.

"Fuck!" Erik swore out loud. His whole body was burning now. And his arm bled like crazy immediately. Emma watched the spectacle for a few seconds until she finally decided to run the other way. Erik was tired of this silly game. Just as she reached the door, Erik shot and hit her in the chest. She immediately went to the floor and doubled over in pain.

Slowly he came up to her and held his bleeding arm. “I'm assuming that you just followed his orders. It doesn't necessarily make you a better person, but it doesn't make you a worse one either. So… I'm not going to make you suffer as much as he did,” Erik said softly, and finally shot her in the head before she could reply.

He would never get these pictures out of his head again. Never again.

Just when he thought he was going to collapse and just lose consciousness, he heard _him_ calling through a cell.

"Erik? Erik, is that you?” he whined through a metal door. So quiet and so far away that Erik thought he would speak to him from another world.

"Charles?" he called, frantically walking off every door. "Where are you? How can I open the cells?”

Before he could get an answer from his friend, he answered the question himself and picked up the corpse transponders. In fact, one of them opened the cell doors. Behind the first door was some thug guy who was about to punch Erik in the face.

“I am not a guard! Get out of here,” Erik said annoyed, and went straight to the next cell door.

"I'm here!" Charles called several times, but the doors muffled his voice so much that Erik couldn't really make out where his friend was. After releasing three more guys, he finally opened the right one.

Charles immediately jumped and took a step back. At first, he had probably only seen the guard's uniform. The dark cells, in which one could not even lie down straight and in which there was nothing else, made Charles appear smaller than ever. He looked thinner than usual. His dark circles were almost as black as the walls. His hair unwashed and wild on his head. The clothes on him were dirty and probably sweaty. The light beard made him older. But also more daring.

"Oh, Erik!" he sighed, tears instantly in his eyes. "It really is you!"

He immediately fell into Erik's arms and hugged him tightly. Erik groaned painfully. His arm was bruised uncomfortably.

“Shit, what happened? Have you been shot?” Charles hissed panicked, inspecting his wound with shaky hands. Only then did he notice the three dead people on the floor. He fell silent, looked around in horror, and finally looked back at Erik. "What happened?"

"So much ... far too much," he sighed wistfully, taking Charles's face in his hand. “But I'm so glad you're still here. Shaw said you were long gone. I am glad that he lied. Let's go… I'll tell you everything when we get out of here.”

"Go? Where to?” Charles asked heatedly, nervously reaching for Erik's clothes.

"No matter where, just get out," Erik murmured, kissing Charles hard on the lips. They were dry and rough, but Erik could hardly believe that they had made it so far. Without losing any more words, he grabbed Charles' hand and dragged him over the bodies to the emergency exit.

Then he saw the red lever of the fire alarm right next to an escape plan. Without hesitation he pulled hard on it. A siren went off immediately.

"There's a lot going on outside," Erik said. "The inmates have started an uprising."

"For real? How wonderful,” Charles smiled as best he could. Only now did Erik see that his lips had split open and were only slowly healing. On top of it, he was covered with bruises. What did they do to him?

Hell was going on outside. The few guards who were still walking around unscathed tried to calm the situation down. With Charles at hand Erik ran towards the sports field. Where the collection point should be. But everyone was just running wild. The fire alarm had only made things worse and more chaotic. It was actually a classic uprising. The inmates even hit each other.

"What about Shaw?" Charles asked out of breath, limping behind Erik more badly than he should. Was his leg sprained?

"I chained him up in his own sex cellar ... and threw him to the inmates so they could eat him alive," Erik said, looking for Tucker.

"You had him?" Charles gasped in surprise, pulling his arm so hard that they stopped for a moment. "You had him, but you didn't kill him?"

“No, he should suffer. But I didn't have time to inflict the suffering myself. I wanted to go to you. That was more important.”

Erik could see from Charles' face that he couldn't quite understand this train of thought. Charles would probably have liked to make a splatter film with Shaw.

"Erik!" he finally heard Tucker's voice. He came up to them with quick steps and hugged Erik firmly. "You did it," he said in relief, patting Erik on the back. "The uniform suits you!"

That made Erik laugh softly. "Thank you, guess my calling is to wear uniform." He held Tucker's shoulder firmly in his hand for a moment. "Thank you. It wouldn't have worked half as well without you.”

“Yes, the uprising worked a little _too_ well. They really smash their heads here. But good for you.”

"That was you?" Erik asked with wide eyes.

Tucker nodded immediately. His expression grew serious. “I felt you needed help. I heard about dead guards. And a laundry worker was found in the car.”

Erik swallowed hard. "Is he alive?"

“Yes, he lives. But they also found the guard in your bed. Erik…” Tucker sighed, but was interrupted by Charles before he could stop.

"What ... what's going on here?" Charles asked uncertainly, standing next to Erik. "He helps us?"

“Yes, Charles. He's our friend,” Erik confirmed, looking deeply into Charles' eyes for a moment to give his statement even more strength.

"You can sort this out later," Tucker interrupted, pulling the phone out of his pocket. "Here. The GPS is switched on. Put it in a bush or in tall grass. Maybe 1-2 kilometres from here. The signal should then work again. My people will find it. Please take a different direction so that no one else can find the cell phone.”

Erik took the device and put it in his briefcase. "I will. I even have a little addition for your people. I got this laptop from Shaw's office. I also have his keychain and his cell phone. I am 100% sure that there is a hidden room with drugs in the basement. Pass it all on and let the detective do the rest.”

Both Tucker and Charles looked at him with wide eyes. "Bub," began his buddy, "did you kill him?"

"No, I left him to the inmates."

Tucker drew a strict line with his lips. He snorted from his nose. "So he's as good as dead."

"He deserved it, Tucker," Erik said, raising his eyebrows. His buddy sighed, looked down, and nodded. He would have liked to say something about it, but swallowed it down and looked up determinedly.

“The keys for the emergency vehicles are in a small cubicle near the barrier. As I can see from your dirty uniforms, you probably have no problem calling things up by force. But please, Erik," and then he put his hand on Erik's shoulder again, "don't plaster the paths with unnecessarily much blood. Just disappear and start a new life. Take the chance, yes?”

He immediately grabbed Tucker's hand and looked at it for a while. "You have my word. I owe you."

“No, you're doing enough by finally getting the information out. Hopefully it will be enough to end it all once and for all.”

"I hope so too," Erik said, and finally let go. "See you soon, Tucker."

“See you soon, Erik. All the best to you two.”

With that he turned and disappeared into the crowd. Charles immediately took Erik's hand back and looked at him questioningly.

“Tucker helps us? I attacked and injured him. Are you sure he won't betray us? To pay us back?”

“He's helping us, Charles. 100%," Erik sighed, squeezing his hand. “We've come this far, haven't we? Then we can do the rest.”

"Hey!" Suddenly guards were shouting as they strode toward them. It was probably too noticeable that an alleged guard was holding hands with an inmate in the middle of an uprising.

"Fuck!" Erik called and started to run. Charles was close behind, although he wasn't quite as fast with his sprained foot. They heard other guards screaming and calling for them, but Erik just ran. He saw the barrier and the little house, but which key would go with which car? Several vehicles were on the square!

Then he saw guards suddenly getting into a nearby emergency vehicle.

"Oh, perfect," Erik murmured, sprinting toward the men. There were only two, so he shot one in the leg and the other in the shoulder. It was getting easier to shoot people. The inhibition threshold dropped and Erik had to pull himself together enormously not to kill the men after all - simply out of ‘safety’. His aching arm, throbbing limbs, and headache, which was getting worse, just made Erik act, not think anymore. But Tucker was right - the way had been bloody enough.

Charles followed as quickly as he could and got in. The engine was already running, so Erik just had to drive off.

"This is so crass," Charles breathed, holding onto the door. "It's all so crass!"

"Is that enough action for you, Mr. Agent?" Erik mumbled, trying not to hit anything with the car. The barrier didn't open, of course, but Erik just drove through. The windscreen cracked but did not shatter. In the mirror he saw guards screaming and watching them go. Immediately more of them got into cars and vans.

Erik drove at full speed down the wide street. He remembered that he had come from here. Where should he go? Where were they? And were they really outside? Did they actually make it out of prison?

More vehicles with flashing lights came slowly behind them. However, they still had enough distance.

"What do we do now?" Charles asked, looking nervously in the rear-view mirror. “I see several guns here. Should I load them?”

Erik hesitated a few seconds before nodding. "Yes, maybe it is better."

When they passed a small forest, Erik drove in immediately. The road was bumpy but still tarred. The caravan of cars naturally followed. He still took the time to stop quickly and throw the briefcase into a bush.

"Let's hope nothing broke," Erik sighed, driving on like a madman. "And let's hope we don't get to a dead-end right away!"

Charles loaded the weapons in a very concentrated manner. He didn't do it with any particular routine. Erik noticed that now.

When they finally left the forest and came back on a larger road, the emergency vehicles also approached. There was even a black van with more than two policemen in it.

"Fuck, that's getting more and more," Erik whispered.

"They'll probably be coming from the other direction too," Charles said, releasing the first weapon. "I'm sure they have already requested reinforcements."

"Stop talking like you know what's going on," Erik growled tensely at his friend. He was irritable. Full of pain. And unsure if that would all work out.

"Didn't they teach you that?" Charles asked, horrified, holding two weapons. Automatic weapons. A large knife was still on the floor of the footwell.

"Yes!" Erik said hysterically. “I was taught that, but not you! You are not an agent, Charles! Stop lying to me, please! I now know. So you don't have to lie anymore.”

That made Charles flinch. "What are you talking about…?"

“You're not an agent, Charles, I know that now. And you know that, too! This right here is now about life and death. I have to be able to rely on you completely! Can you handle such a thing at all?” he asked irritably and took a rapid-fire weapon from Charles' lap.

"Of course I can," he said sensitively, picking up the other weapon. He grimaced in pain. "Why did you take me out when you suddenly distrust me again?"

"Because -" Erik started, but stopped. The first shots were fired. The emergency vehicles were suddenly very close. He tried to drive on and accelerate a little more. But the cold and icy road didn't allow for a faster pace. It was difficult to focus on the path and talk to Charles about their relationship. “Because you are important to me as a person, no matter who or what you are! But I don't want to hear the story anymore that you're an agent. You are what you are and I love you the way you are. But please don't lie to me anymore.”

Suddenly Charles started to say nothing more. Erik couldn't see if he was sad, angry, or anything else that kept him silent. Finally he heard Charles's nose making sounds.

So it was sadness.

Erik took his eyes off the road for a brief moment and looked at his friend, who saw intensely out of the windscreen as silent tears ran down his cheeks.

Suddenly another shot was heard, there was a clanging noise and Erik lost control of the car. A tire had burst. They slithered across the cold road until they drove into a ditch. The airbags opened immediately when Erik hit a tree. Both slammed forward with full force.

The sirens grew louder immediately.

"Shit," Erik swore, holding his forehead as the situation suddenly calmed down. The airbag had broken his nose again. Charles also groaned and rubbed his face. He was bleeding from the nose. The windscreen was now completely through. But thank God no splinter had hit them. Erik looked in the cracked rear-view mirror. "They are coming closer ... That's it ..."

"That's it?" Charles groaned, looking around the car immediately. "What kind of cop are you that you give up immediately?"

"Excuse me?" Erik shouted, slapping the dash. "What should we do now?! We are outnumbered!”

“Maybe two or three men per vehicle. We'll get them,” Charles growled, and suddenly got out of the vehicle.

"Fuck, Charles!" Erik called after him as he watched his friend start shooting wildly. Erik quickly got out and watched the bullets fly around him. Charles even hit a few cars that were still driving on the road. One also went into the ditch and hit a tree. The driver was completely squeezed. The passenger staggered out and was immediately shot by Charles.

"Fuck, no," Erik breathed, running after his friend with his gun in his hand, who coldly murdered everyone who moved.

The van slid to a stop. Four forces armed with protective vests emerged from it. They shot right around them, forcing Erik and Charles to hide behind their car.

“This isn't a shitty action movie, Charles! Stop it!” Erik swore, trying to take the gun from Charles. But he dropped it voluntarily and reached into the car from the broken window. There he fished out a new rapid-fire weapon.

"I'm not going to give up without a fight," he said as if in a trance, releasing the gun. "If we die, they die too!"

He got up and fired at the police without warning. Of course they fired back and Erik worried about Charles' life. But sitting stiffly somewhere and hoping that his crazy boyfriend rode him out of the shit didn't improve the situation in the slightest. So what was left for him to do other than help?

He crawled to the other end of the car, peered past the side, and gradually began to take out the policemen. He could still pretend to be a sniper and use the moment of surprise for himself. But suddenly a guard came up to Erik and picked up his gun to aim at Erik.

The adrenaline in Erik's body made him act like a robot. He finally got up, went past the broken car and shot as best as he could. He met almost every man close to the head. Other men who had already been shot tried to get him and reached for him. He was beaten. Cuts. And he was probably shot again - he wasn't sure. The body's own painkillers made him feel nothing. But around him the men fell one by one.

What a massacre.

_It shouldn't have ended like this!_

In the end, Charles ran out of ammunition, so he had to find shelter behind the car again. But instead of reloading or stealing the gun from a corpse, he pulled the knife and jumped on the police officers who were still alive to slit them open.

The previous dirty prisoner uniform was now soaked in blood. In the blood of others. And probably in their own blood. Both Erik and Charles fought with the rest of the police, landed in the mud and wrestled to the brim.

And suddenly there was silence. Erik stood up shakily and looked around. Only corpses around them. Blood was paving the streets, and it was exactly what Tucker had warned them of.

Charles stood very unsteadily on one leg as he watched a policeman die, out of breath.

"Oh god," Erik sighed, holding his aching shoulder. It was bleeding. But it seemed to be a clean bullet. Just like his arm. Slowly he saw stars. "What happened?"

"We're still alive, that's what happened," Charles growled; still clogged with adrenaline in the blood. His hands trembled and he looked around as if he were on drugs. "We made it. Let's get out of here!"

He hobbled to a destroyed car and grabbed another 9mm, which he put on the waistband. But Erik was standing in the middle of the scene and rubbing his dirty hair. Sweat, blood and dust made them sticky.

"Shit, it shouldn't have ended like this ..."

"How should it have ended otherwise?" Charles groaned and came up to his friend, who was still completely standing next to himself. "Otherwise we would have died, babe! That was the only way!”

"No," he breathed, looking deeply into Charles's eyes. "We could have just gone back."

“We got it this far, why should we go back? Sometimes you just have to go crazy!”

"Like you do all the time?" Erik countered aggressively, and got an equally aggressive response.

"Yes! Yes, the way I do it! But I live! And I don't care about others, Erik! I am not interested in the stories of others, because nobody is interested in my story! I kill when I have to, and maybe I like to do it sometimes because it feels good to be stronger than everyone else! Don't lie to me and say you _accidentally_ killed the guards in prison!”

Erik was simply disappointed with himself and the whole situation. They should have gone to psychiatry. Now he believed in it even more than before. That would have saved many people's lives.

He staggered aside and looked across the battlefield again. They had killed so many people. So many men with probably women and children.

"Babe," Charles said, raising his eyebrows as if he were about to cry again. “Don't let me down now… I thought you wanted to go to a beach with me? Open a bar? We can still do that! Nobody will force us to act so fatalistic! I promise you; everything will get better. I also promise you that I will never commit murder again. No violence. None of this, no matter what you want! But please don't leave me alone now!”

Erik shook his head and went through his hair again. "It should have gone according to plan ... why didn't it go according to plan..."

"But it was going according to plan!" Charles called, stamping on the floor as if he didn't understand what Erik's problem was.

A man who was still alive fell out of a car and begged for his life. But Charles was angry. And faster. So he stabbed him with a knife, which he had pulled from another corpse. So much for his promise not to kill anyone anymore.

He stood in the middle of the road like an angel of death. Blood around him. Corpses. And the shimmering sun on the ice, the reflection of which made his face look pale.

"Please," he said, taking Erik's hand. "Come with me. Let's go before they send reinforcements…”

Erik looked into the deep blue of Charles' eyes and sank into it for a moment.

They had come this far. Giving up now would only have made the last murders even more pointless. So Erik pulled himself together and let go of Charles' hand. He looked at him with wide eyes, as if he was afraid that Erik would have changed his mind and would now kill him too. But he kissed his lips lovingly and hugged him close.

"No more murders," he whispered. "And you'll take your medication."

Charles blinked the wetness in his eyes many times until he finally nodded resignedly and just leaned against Erik's shoulder.

"Let's go," he whispered, taking his friend by the hand. Together they left the scene while sirens were heard again in the background.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left, my dear loved ones! Thank you all so much for reading and I really hope you enjoyed the story so far (although there were so so many errors in it, so sorry)! The last chapter will be the end of Charles' and Erik's journey - I haven't planned any sequel. So be prepared for the end :-)


	26. Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for this chapter:  
> \- parental abuse  
> \- murder  
> \- medication abuse  
> \- mental disorders

The night was so incredibly cold that every step ached in their joints. They had been out for hours. They roamed through bushes, tall grass and fields, only to escape the sniffer dogs, which with great certainty grazed the area. The now darkness made it difficult for both the police and the two fugitives.

They had moved away from the scene quickly enough that the distance was large enough. But the constant fear of being discovered or caught was deep in Erik's bones. He just kept moving, not knowing where, ignoring his wounds and the throbbing in the head.

"How long are you intending to run?" Charles asked, always walking a little behind Erik. His leg was bothering him. But he hadn't really complained so far and simply accepted the pain.

Just like Erik, who had two gunshot wounds. The wounds pounded and hurt enormously. He had provisionally bandaged it with two scraps of broken police uniforms. Charles had also stolen a thicker jacket. But neither of them had suitable shoes to go hiking in the thicket in the middle of winter.

"I don't even know where we are," Erik muttered, visibly exhausted and about to collapse.

“Let's have a rest. We have been running for hours. I don't think they're still looking for us here.”

Erik kept walking as if he was a wind-up doll. It was only when Charles grabbed his sleeve and forced him to stand that his legs stopped moving.

“We have to eat something… and drink something. Take care of your wounds…” Charles breathed, stroking Erik's bloody uniform. "We'll freeze to death if we stay outside tonight."

But Erik was no longer accountable. He stared at the floor and tried to stay awake. Everything hurt. Fatigue slowly took over him. The events of the afternoon were still deep in his bones. The loss of blood made him see black in the periphery of his field of vision.

“Stay here for a moment, okay? I'll be right back,” Charles said very gently, placing his friend next to a tree. Then he disappeared. And Erik wasn't sure when he came back. Because suddenly they were walking along a small path together. In the distance he saw a farm.

'There's a little barn. We can stay there at least for a short time. When the sun comes up, we go on,” Charles said, taking Erik's hand.

The barn was really very small. It smelled strongly of hay and animal faeces. Around them stood some agricultural implements. The property probably belonged to a farmer. Because around them there were only fields except for the small forest.

Both sat in a corner on the wooden floor. The equipment would not warm them, but at least there was no ice-cold wind around them.

"Show me your wounds," Charles said, already fiddling with Erik's collar.

"No, you better leave it," he sighed, and leaned exhausted against a workbench. "Otherwise we have to redo it... The bandage."

Charles just smiled weakly and took his hands back. He sat right next to Erik and leaned against the wall. Finally, his hands reached for Erik's body and carefully pulled it to him. He placed his head on his lap. He gently stroked Erik's dirty hair.

It was good to lie. Erik's bones felt heavy. And he was tired - _so tired_.

They were silent for a while, until Erik felt that he couldn't sleep. He was too cold and his arm and shoulder hurt too much. So he looked up at Charles and watched him for a while. At some point he looked down at him. Apparently, he couldn't sleep either.

"We did it," Erik said softly, trying to smile. "We really broke out."

Charles nodded gently and returned the smile. His dark circles grew thicker every minute. Generally, Charles looked like a walking corpse. Did Erik look the same?

"You're a real hero," Charles whispered, stroking Erik's cheek lovingly. "My hero. After all, you could have left me in the isolation cell. After cheating on you and your friend like this...”

Erik closed his eyes for a moment. The stars danced on his lid. "You weren't yourself ... Without your sister and without Hank ..."

Then Erik looked up again and returned Charles' tense look. They stared at each other for a while without saying a word. Charles guessed what his lover was getting at. But instead of telling himself, Erik had to follow up.

"Who are you really?" he asked so softly that he barely understood himself. But Charles' eyebrows immediately pulled together in a questioning expression.

"Why do you ask? I thought it didn't matter who I was or what I was,” he breathed, still stroking Erik's hair. His fingers were so cold and blue that Erik wasn't sure how he had held out that long.

“It doesn't matter either. I'm just curious… you know how I am,” he tried to joke, but Charles just pressed his lips together and finally looked away.

"You also know how I am. Tell me first," he began quietly, blinking into the distance, "who told you the supposed truth. Was it Tucker?”

Erik strained to let air out of his nose. "Kind of. Mostly it was Shaw.”

"And you believe him?" Charles asked, almost disgusted. "His lies?"

"Charles," Erik sighed and closed his eyes again. He didn't want to look into a sad and angry face. He had seen enough pained faces for a day. “I didn't believe him at first. But then everything made sense. And finally Tucker came out as the undercover cop. The last piece of the puzzle, which was given to me independently of the other information, fit seamlessly into the overall picture.”

Then Charles fell silent. It took a few seconds for the information to be processed. "... Tucker was the cop?"

"Yes ..." Erik confirmed and leaned against Charles’ stomach. His clothes still smelled of blood. Even with the police jacket over it. “He helped me free you. We owe him something.”

Charles still seemed to be processing the information. Even his fondling had stopped for a short time. It only started again after several moments.

“So you knew I was a phony? And yet you got me out?” he murmured in a broken voice.

Erik grunted softly. The circular movements and body heat from Charles slowly lulled him into a comfortable state. The wounds were still throbbing and his feet ached. But the pain got less. As if it were slowly passing away.

"I never wanted to lie to you," Charles breathed, taking a deep breath. “When you said to me in the shower that you now knew everything about me, I really thought you meant my true identity. But then you told me the story of the undercover cop and I thought: well, then we'll go with that story first. You seemed so happy to have found me. And wouldn't that have been nice? As if fate was on our side.”

Charles' hands simultaneously stroked Erik's head during his telling.

“And then you say you were a cop yourself. If I had told you the truth - that I wasn't actually one! - then you might have left me alone. When I was just a normal person who ended up in jail. And not a cop. Like you. I was just scared. Afraid you'd leave me. I already loved you so much.”

"... I love you too, babe," Erik murmured, struggling with consciousness. The heavy blackness slowly pulled him down.

Charles laughed briefly and raised his nose. Finally he wiped his face and continued to stroke Erik's head. “You risked your life for me. So it's only fair… if I tell you the truth, is it?”

Erik muttered something to himself. It could have been a “please” or a “yes”. Or something completely different. But Charles took the incomprehensible hum as an approval. He struggled with something, then took a breath, and seemed to concentrate entirely on Erik's head. He plucked almost every strand of hair individually and combed them aside to remove the dirt and blood.

“I come from a very ... very rich family. I know it sounds like another lie. But believe me, I wouldn't lie about that. Wealth is often not a blessing. It can also be a curse. Basically, I would say that was what drove me to this ruin. But you shouldn't always blame others, right?”

He laughed briefly as if he had just told a joke.

“So get ready to hear a tragic childhood story. Don't almost all murder stories start like this? But that's how it was. I was a lonely child, just spent time at home. No siblings, no friends, no pets. Only me and my parents. I was taught from home. So I only had a few teachers that I got to know here and there. Our property was large enough that it could have been a separate village. But what is a village without inhabitants? A ghost town.”

His eyes wandered into the distance.

“When I was five, we went on vacation for the first time. I can still remember how happy I was to be able to leave my boring, grey home for a few days. But in the end, I always had to stay with my nanny on the hotel premises. Only when we went on a trip did I see something of the city. And that's where we found Raven. She was a poor orphan who lived on the street. I immediately got on with her. She was my age. She was probably only nice to me because I always brought her food from the hotel in secret, but I didn't care. She was another human being that had paid attention to me. My parents thought she was a good pastime for me. So they took her with them. Money can play a really prominent role here. In the end, I was glad we adopted her ... She's the best sister in the world,” he breathed, seeming to smile. The satisfied grin and the memory of a beautiful childhood were clearly heard in his voice. But as quickly as these loving thoughts came, they went as quickly.

“But at some point, our paths parted when she started an apprenticeship and my parents wanted me to study. They sent me to a boarding school, far from home. They wanted me to start a career and increase the wealth we had. Finally, like probably every teenager, I broke out and discovered the world for myself. Drugs. Parties. Excesses. I stole a couple of cars even though I had enough money to just buy them. I broke into villas because I wanted to swim in a pool that wasn't mine.”

He fell silent again for a few moments. His strained breath was clearly audible. Talking was very stressful for him. After all, they hadn't eaten or drunk anything in hours. Charles was also wounded. Especially after he killed a whole bunch of police officers and guards almost like from a movie. But he took another breath and continued. His fingers brushed across Erik's forehead. His friend just listened silently.

“I started to sink into a swamp that was eating me up more and more. The friends I had? They weren't friends. They stole from me, took advantage of my money and instigated me to do things that, from today's perspective, I shouldn’t have done. But I wanted to be part of it. Have friends, even if they weren't real. After all, I wanted to drop out of college when my parents suddenly intervened. They found out that I took drugs and lived in a fantasy world. They didn't tolerate any of my lovers and thought I was sick. So they dragged me from doctor to doctor. In the end," and then his voice grew sad, "they put me in a psychiatric ward. For three weeks. They pumped me full of medication and diagnosed a dissociative disorder. Maybe I really have that, who knows. I often feel normal, then again, I question everything. I'm slowly getting used to it. But back when the diagnosis came ... I went nuts, which added another two weeks to my stay.”

He giggled weakly again and ran his fingers over Erik's cheeks.

“You now know that I am emotional and maybe not quite stable. The medication helped a little, but it also made me dizzy. Sometimes when I took too much, I couldn't remember whole days. But that was in the interest of everyone. My parents were happy with it. My lecturers too. My friends. Everyone somehow agreed that I was completely beside myself and was basically just a shadow of myself. Raven knew none of this. She was the stepdaughter; unwanted and unloved over time. She never showed any disappointment, but ended her education and finally worked. I later found out that she had even finished school and was starting to study. I admired her so much. She was so strong. She had everything I didn't have. A stable life.”

Charles fell silent. Towards the end, his words grew quieter and more fragile. He was probably also struggling with consciousness. The fatigue in his bones slowly pulled him into the black hole. Where Erik was already. He only vaguely heard what was happening.

“I stopped taking drugs at some point, but… the extreme lifestyle was preserved. Finally I broke off my studies and ran away. I broke off contact with my parents and Raven. I only wrote to her here and there so that she knew I was fine so far. I told her one lie after another because I was afraid ... she would be worried. I didn't want to destroy her life - it was so perfect! So I wrote that I had a great new job, that I was going to make a lot of money, but had broken off contact with mom and dad because they had pissed me off. She always replied so incredibly lovingly and caringly that I was forced to keep lying.”

He swallowed extremely loudly. As if his throat was so dry that even the saliva got stuck in his throat.

In a rough voice, he continued quietly. “In one of the many part-time jobs that I took on to survive somehow, I met a woman who was basically my boss. She was kind and patient. Caught me up a few times. One day I don't really remember, we had unprotected sex. My medication was still too strong, but the doctors didn't care. That day ... I probably made her pregnant. In any case, she told me that. I found out afterwards that an older acquaintance had told her that my family was rich. So she wanted to get married at once. We then fought violently. I was afraid of becoming a father. Me and a child? No way ... My own life was a disaster, how should I take care of another?”

A last amused chuckle escaped him.

“I stopped taking my medication. Out of anger at the incident of ignorantly impregnating her. A cold withdrawal. Not a good idea. I went crazy again. Because she wasn't pregnant at all. She shouted that in my face. I killed her in an argument. And ran. Until they caught me.”

His breathing slowed. The cold around her froze completely.

„My head got better without medication. At least that's what I thought. Considering everything that happened ... maybe not.”

His fingers ran across Erik's forehead, which had long since gone cold.

“And then you came. We had so much fun. You took me as I am. I am infinitely grateful to you for that.”

“I've been waiting for you all my life… I love you, babe. Let's go to a nice place together.”

"Babe?"

"Erik ...?"

"Do not leave me alone …"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, there will be an epilogue! ;-)


	27. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter:  
> \- Necrophilia  
> \- murder

"... The next day the briefcase was recovered from the bushes. Both the cell phone and the laptop suffered a bit from the damp, but IT specialists were able to save the hard drives.

They found emails, documents, and text messages that all confirmed that Shaw was involved in drugs and the mafia. The Eastern Europeans sold their stuff through the prison, had their headquarters there at Shaw and, on the side, did a lot of money laundering with stolen or imported goods. All of this went through the prison, where basically everyone had been initiated and then not. Shaw had had a knack for just letting things go and pretending he didn't know anything. Ultimately, he benefited from drug sales and money laundering profits, so he owned several yachts, villas, and cars. All registered under different names. Including his nieces and nephews, who knew nothing about all of this.

Emma, Shaw's right hand, was always the executive. It was she who filled the lockers with drugs, which the prisoners eventually sold and consumed. The cameras, which originally should have recorded everything, were dummies of all places. Nevertheless, one could infer from one to the other from their errands on the other cameras.

The prison riot was ultimately ended by outside forces. There were a large number of deaths overall; both among the inmates and among the guards.

Emma was found naked in the isolation tract with even more corpses. It is believed that she was raped post-mortem. The cameras showed no faces, but inmates were immediately investigated.

Shaw was found in several pieces in the sex cellar. Again, it is suspected that he was raped - at what point is still unclear. But it is well known that Shaw wasn't just cut up like that. We both know that.

I am now free. Can you imagine that? Back with my family. Thank you. Because MacTaggert came to me the very next day when the entire prison was still in quarantine. She interrogated me and I told her everything. That you didn't want to give up until the end and that you stuck to the case. And above all, that thanks to you there is now enough incriminating evidence on the table that will probably lead to the prison being temporarily closed.

But what should we care now, right? I was finally allowed to go on probation and due to good leadership. And you? You actually managed to escape. I hope you are well. After the massacre, I was afraid that you would continue to pave the way with blood. Several dead men were found on the country road towards the city. I can imagine what was going on and I don't know if I approve. But since I haven't heard of any murders specifically related to your escape since, I assume that you got the curve. In a better life without murders. Without blood. And without pain.

A P.O. box is written as the sender on the letter. I'm the only one who has a key, so you don't have to be afraid someone might read your answer. If you don't want to answer me, that's okay too.

I wish you all the best and I hope to see you again in this life. Because one doesn't forget someone like you, bub.

Kind regards and a hug,

Logan aka Tucker"

He read the long letter again and finally folded it up to put it in a padded envelope. He wrote his P.O. box as the sender on the back and the address of Erik and Charles on the front.

The letter that had reached him two days ago consisted of only two lines: the address and "please write him, he will be happy about it".

Tucker smiled as he wrote the foreign address on the front of the letter. And wondered what life was like on the beach in Thailand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END!
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading this story! I know I made a looot of mistakes but I'd never have accomplished translating the whole story without the help of google :D And since I'm my own proofreader, I probably oversaw a huge amount of errors.   
> But I hope you enjoyed the story nonetheless! ♥

**Author's Note:**

> Tiny sidenote from a non-native speaker:
> 
> I did my best to translate the story into English but I'm afraid there will still be a lot of mistakes, since I used Google Translate to speed up the process. Please excuse that!


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